Doublesight (12 page)

Breel reached down and rubbed Therin's ear. “Could that be my brother?”

“I don't know,” Zimp said. “But that would make sense.”

The three of them hurried down the path to enter the camp just as Arren led the Flandeans into the crow clan circle as though invited.

“Some army you have yourself,” Brull noticed.

“It is no army, I am afraid,” Arren said. “We are but entertainers. We travel to villages to sing and dance.”

That is what they did, too, Zimp thought, sang and danced and stole what they could. She let Arren settle with the Flandeans for the moment and went to look in on Brok.

Breel followed Zimp with Therin at her side. At the rear of the wagon, she stood beside Zimp and peered through at Brok and Oro. Her brother sat with his back against Zimp's cot. His head leaned back on her pillow, which was stuffed next to his shoulder. Oro closed up the man's shirt and began cleaning a small bowl onto a piece of waste-cloth.

“What did you do?” Zimp asked.

“Only what I could. I did not have the proper leaves or roots. It is mostly just pressure and something to sooth the pain.”

“I should have told you that Zora whispered that I should know how to stop the bleeding.”

Oro continued to clean the bowl. A small white candle flickered. Oro bent to blow it out, then changed her mind. “We'll just leave this for a while. Good energy,” she said to Brok.

“I will go and get what you need,” Zimp said.

Oro shook her head. “I heard that you met up with Flandean Guards. It appears that you let Arren lead once again.”

“I told him to bring them here while I stayed behind and checked them for doublesight.”

“And now you wish to leave and collect herbs for your wounded friend,” Oro accused.

Breel placed her hand on the small of Zimp's back and rubbed it gently. Zimp let her embarrassment slide away into Breel's gentle motion. “Should I stay with the Flandeans and ignore my duty to you, ignore the wounded?” Zimp hated that she didn't know what to do.

“The entire clan is yours to protect. Can I not help your friend without you? Can I not rely on the clan to look after me?” Oro wrapped the waste in the cloth and tied a ribbon around it to close it off. “What would you want of a true leader?”

Zimp hesitated, but the answer to the question didn't come to her. She knew that what she had done was evidently wrong in Oro'seyes, but what was right? “And he,” she pointed at Brok, “is not my friend.”

With that, Zimp felt Breel's hand retreat. “I didn't mean you,” Zimp said, turning toward the woman.

“We must disgust you. Our ways and our beast image.” Breel stared into Zimp's eyes and would not turn away.

Zimp held her breath. Her shoulders crushed against the muscles in her neck and her head ached. “I am sorry,” she said before she walked away.

13

LANKOR FOLLOWED THE FLASHING LIGHT from a small bug, curious what it might be. In a clearing, there were many more flashes of the same light, many more of the insects. Amazed at the sight, he sat amidst them with his sword across his lap. He couldn't help smiling as he watched them rise and fall, their tiny moonlights pulsing. One landed on his leg. Its light stayed out. Lankor bent close and in the dimness of the real moon's light saw two orange stripes, one on each wing from its head to its rear. The bug opened its wings and lifted into the air. The light opened and closed in an easy rhythm.

He rose to his feet. What magic was this before him? What God made such kind and pleasant insects? They did not bite or sting, but danced through the air creating a lamp to light their own way. A breeze wound through the clearing and pushed Lankor's cloak behind him into a soft flutter of sound and motion. He turned and watched the insects as they created a spell around him. His breath matched the easy rhythm of light until he wondered which way he had entered the clearing. Had the bugs truly placed a spell on him? Suddenly he felt sure that he had been led away purposefully by some witch or warlock of the night. That the insects would soon turn into large stinging bees, or heavily armed assassins.

Lankor turned in each direction, searching for something familiar. The magic place had obliterated the real world and taken him away. His family. What of them? He must find his way out of the clearing and back to his camp.

Lankor swung his sword as if to wipe out the bugs, but appeared to miss them. He scurried into the dark woods away from the
clearing, far away, before stopping. His heavy breathing made it difficult to listen closely. Had he been followed? He held his sword ready. Forcing himself to take shallow breaths, he heard a twig snap at his right. His hand became sweaty and beads of moisture appeared across his brow. The thick air entered his lungs slowly. Oxygen-starved, Lankor took a long breath to fill his lungs to full capacity. His eyes darted from side to side, searching the darkness. His ears focused on the possibility of a footfall.

From behind, something large and hairy and black pushed him over. He rolled to his back, bringing his sword up in a great slash through the air, slicing a branch from a nearby sapling. It fell, the leaves brushing his arm and face as though alive. His eyes widened. He pushed along the ground with his feet to get away from the form that shoved him over. His eyes focused on two large black bears. Both stepped closer as Lankor tried to scuffle to his feet. As he gained balance and got to one knee, he pulled his sword in front of him and slid it back and forth in the air. He turned it as he moved from side to side, pointing it at one, then the other bear.

One of the bears stamped forward with a little hop as if in play, while the other one dropped and rolled into the darkness.

His legs trembling, Lankor rose to his feet, the sword still moving, but his ears perked and listening.

From the space where the black bear entered the woods stepped a handsome young dark-skinned man. He began to laugh and said, “Put down the sword, my friend.”

The other black bear slipped behind the first to block him from full view. He made no sound as he shifted his image. They looked to be brothers. Twins, perhaps.

Lankor maintained his ready position. “You are wizards. You cannot trick me.”

The brothers looked at one another and laughed. “Wizards?” The one on the right said, “Wouldn't that be fun?” The other one laughed and patted the first brother's shoulder. “Would it be that different?”

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” Lankor said.

The brothers calmed and simultaneously examined Lankor from where they stood. Their eyes appeared bright as though they could
see in the dark, even in human form. The first one to shift said, “You called us to you. You entered dreamtime and opened yourself. When you became scared, you called for help.”

The other brother said, “And here we are.” He spread his arms.

“I didn't call for help,” Lankor assured them.

The first to shift lifted a hand into the air, palm out as though he was indicating that he had no weapons. “My name is Mammadoon. My bother,” he pointed, and his brother said, “Mammadeen.” Then they both laughed. Mammadoon said, “We are dreamtime followers. And you most assuredly did call for help.”

“What is a dreamtime follower and why would I call you? How would I?”

“I shouldn't be surprised that you don't know,” said Mammadoon.

“We spend much of our time in dream. Dream is but a space between each realm. The immediately departed often go there to speak to the living,” Mammadeen said.

“If you wish to talk with the dead,” Mammadoon said.

“You were there, playing with the fireflies,” Mammadeen said.

“Fireflies? That's what they're called? They were not your sentries?”

The brothers laughed. “Our sentries. We need no sentries.”

Lankor began to understand. “I felt lost.”

“You are still lost, my brother doublesight,” Mammadoon said very seriously.

Lankor stared at him.

“Put down your sword. It is beginning to make this less fun,” Mammadeen said.

Lankor lowered his sword. “Did you come to help?” he said suspiciously.

“We did,” Mammadoon said.

Lankor cocked his head. “Do you know what my beast image is?”

“That is a curious question, my friend.” Mammadoon stepped forward until he apparently noticed Lankor's body tense. “You are a curious stranger to this place that was left behind. Where do you come from, and who are you?”

“Lankor is my name. I come from The Lost.”

The two doublesight bears laughed for a long while, then stopped. “You do not look as though you could last a month in The Lost,”
Mammadoon said. “Not that I've ever been there, but I've heard it is a wasteland, an empty place left barren and cold after the Sclan wars.”

“It has changed.”

“Well, it must have.” Mammadoon took another step toward Lankor. “To answer your other question, we do not know what beast image you are. Neither your aura nor your etheric body shifted while you were dreaming. We saw in them that you were not entirely human. That is easy to do in dreamtime. But unless you shift while you are there,” he shrugged his shoulders, “we wouldn't know.”

“I shall remember that when I dream.”

“Enough talk,” Mammadeen said. “You probably wish to get back to your family.” He led the way back through the clearing. His brother stepped up and closed in next to him.

Lankor, so he didn't get left behind, followed.

Twenty feet outside the clearing a few fireflies still blinked. Lankor kept his distance to the brothers.

“Your mistrust of us is exhausting, brother Lankor. We truly mean you no harm and you were never in any harm with those insects, for sure. Fireflies are the blessed sparks that flew from the fingers of the Gods while they were creating the beasts of The Great Land. We like to think they are the closest to our own creation since we have a light into multiple worlds,” Mammadoon said. He stood smiling at Lankor. “Down there, about fifty steps.” Mammadoon dropped to the ground behind a bush and leaped out as a black bear. Mammadeen dropped behind his brother and shifted as well. They both made a honk-like barking sound toward Lankor, then ran off into the woods.

Lankor hurried through the woods where they had indicated for him to go, and practically rushed into the camp in his haste. He stopped short, but noticed something wasn't quite right. Fear struck him for the second time that evening.

“Were you lost?” Rend said.

Lankor turned to him. “I ran into some doublesight. Bears.”

“I heard nothing.”

“Back there,” Lankor pointed into the darkness. “They were strange. They said something about dreamtime.”

Rend placed a hand on the back of Lankor's neck. “Bears, eh? Dreamtime… Well, if you truly met with bear doublesight, I suppose dreamtime is as good a place as any.”

“No, you don't understand. I was staring at these blinking bugs and getting caught in their magical ways. They were like embers of a fire floating through the air. I slipped into a dream for only a moment, then ran away. The bears said I called them. They led me back here.” Lankor felt his father's grip tighten. “Were they intuitives?”

“There are many varieties of intuitive doublesight. Bears live much of their lives in a space between worlds. They call it dreamtime. I don't know much about bears, but I've heard that they can change your dreams while they are in there. I've heard that they can play with your soul.” Rend pulled his son closer to the fire. “I'm not so sure I trust having bears this close to our camp. Mianna I know is strong enough to hold onto her own dreams and not let them be manipulated.”

“But Nayman,” Lankor said, “and me?”

“Sit by the fire, son. Recall your trip, our destination. You'll be fine. It sounds as though they were being helpful. Let us rise early and move on.”

14

AFTER THE FLANDEANS PASSED through camp, Zimp approached Arren. “Did you learn where they are going? They weren't heading toward Brok and Breel's cabin, were they? Suspicions might rise quickly if that were to happen.”

Arren pointed to where the Flandeans had exited the camp. “They went northwest. They're Flandean Guard, so it doesn't matter what they say. Even that direction is most likely a false lead.”

“Did you learn anything from them that might be reliable?” she asked.

He gazed at her out the corner of his eyes. “I got the sense that they have not been together during their entire trip. It's like they came together recently to follow some mission together. One of them wore a wristband that looked like it was made in City Raldern. That's quite a bit south.”

“What gave you the sense?”

“I am crow clan too, young Zimp. I trust my feelings, as dark as they might seem to you.” Arren lifted the wristband from the pouch he carried on his belt. He turned it in front of Zimp. “Care to hold it for a moment?”

Against her feelings toward Arren, Zimp had to laugh. “You stole it?”

Arren softened too. “What else would I do? I'm surprised that you didn't steal it. Or that ulexite ring the pregnant one wore.”

“I didn't want them coming back or following us.” She pulled the wristband from Arren's fingers. “Something you didn't think of.” Zimp closed her eyes, but her pulse rushed too full and with too
much power for her to get any image from the piece. “Let's see what Oro gets.”

Arren snapped it back from her. “We'll go together. How is the heart-eater doing, anyway?”

“He's fine. Let's be careful with our language though. They are in our care for now.”

“For now,” Arren agreed.

At the wagon, Arren presented the wristband to Oro. Brok rested against Zimp's bed.

“You said they were from Flande? Guardsmen?” Oro said.

“That's what they claimed,” Arren said.

Oro held the wristband and closed her eyes for only a moment. “I don't like the feel of this. Who wore it?”

“The man with the two sons. I forget his name,” Arren said.

Oro waved him off. “Get the others. We need to know the man's name.” Once Arren was out of view, Oro leaned toward Zimp. “You must begin to take charge. We don't want the Flandean Guard to come looking for this thing. And if they do return, I wouldn't want them looking to Arren for answers.”