Doublesight Read online

  Brok, his younger brother Therin and youngest sister Breel, shifted and ran into the woods. Brok led, but the three of them halted long enough to look back as Lina went down completely. Brok noticed Therin's body jolt with the blow to his mother's back, and two subsequent blows to her head and body.

  Brok and Breel continued into the woods, but Therin stood motionless.

  Breel barked to get his attention. Something was wrong.

  Brok turned to go back and motioned for Breel to go on. He sprinted to Therin as the men rushed closer. Brok bit into Therin's tailbone and dragged him backwards.

  Therin growled and yelped, but turned and ran after his brother.

  It was easy to gain distance from the men once the thylacines were in beast image.

  The three marsupials ran deep into the woods. They ducked under and through brush, leaped over fallen trees, and swerved so that they would look as though they disappeared within the fog. There was a meeting place near a hollowed tree where they had all planned to meet if anything were to ever go wrong. They would regroup there.

  Brok panted with fear. The images of his father, mother, and siblings flashed through his mind. Their human forms helped to keep him conscious of his true form. Instinct had forced them to run.

  At the hollowed log deep in the Brendern Forest, Brok took his time shifting into human form. On his knees, breathing heavily, he spit into the crisp leaves in front of him. He could see Breel and Therin in his peripheral vision. Neither shifted.

  Rays of sunlight filtered through the thinned canopy of trees. The fog had become transparent as it burned off. The black trunks of trees held onto the night for as long as they could, even as the leaves turned brilliant with color.

  Brok stood and rubbed the back of his head and neck. “Shift, you two. We need to plan.” He waited a moment. They were both still panting.

  Breel arched her back as though shifting was painful.

  Brok ran to her to make sure she hadn't been cut or stabbed. He saw nothing. A small sound like a whimper escaped her mouth. Drool slid from her canines. Her legs shifted first, always her choice since she was small. Then her torso changed shape and finally her head. Breel fell into Brok's arms and cried.

  He held her. There was no use in telling her that everything was all right or that they'd be fine. He knew better. His family had been murdered and the three of them would most likely be hunted down.

  Brok turned his head and saw that Therin had not shifted. “Therin. Shift.”

  Therin sat on his haunches and cocked his head.

  Brok teared up. “Therin?”

  Breel pushed from Brok and leaned toward her little brother. “Oh, no,” she said.

  Brok grabbed Therin by the fur and shook him. “Therin,” he yelled. “Therin.” Hearing their human name was the strongest pull to return doublesight to their human form, but it wasn't working. Therin was young and nervous. He had always been the most vulnerable and Lina had been over protective of him because of it. So now, Brok feared the worst.

  Breel slapped Therin across the jowls and yelled his name. “Shift,” she said. “Shift, Therin, shift.”

  Therin turned to leave.

  Brok grabbed hold of the fur along Therin's back and pulled him into a sitting position. He knew the signs. Still holding his brother, Brok sat back and stretched his legs outward. He dragged Therin onto his lap and held him.

  Breel reached out and stroked her brother's head. “Why did this happen?”

  “I don't know.” Brok answered both questions at once—about Therin's permanent beast image and about the murder of his family. He reached one arm across Breel's back. “We've got to hide somewhere for the day so we can sleep.”

  “There's nowhere to go,” she said.

  “Dad always felt this was safe enough.” He looked around the area. A mound of leaves and dirt rose a few hundred feet from them. He nodded.

  Breel stood up and ran to it. “The hollow log's over here.”

  Brok strolled over to her side. Therin followed obediently and nudged Brok's leg once he stopped. Brok reached down and scratched his brother's neck. “We'll have to shift and sleep that way.”

  “I've never done that before,” Breel said. Her eyes were wet and her brown hair hung in tangles near her shoulders. Her shirt matched the black striped coloring of her thylacine image, but her pants were brown like her hair.

  “If you wake up disoriented, shift to human form for a few minutes to get your bearings. Don't stay that way long though; your skin can't handle the ant and spider bites like your beast image can.” He raised his eyebrows. “Okay to do this?”

  Breel pushed her lips together so that they looked like a straight line across her face. She nodded, but didn't look all that convincing to Brok. Then she burst into tears again.

  He reached for her, but she waved him away. “This will be difficult,” she said.

  “I know.” He scratched Therin's head and looked up at Breel. “It already is.” As the oldest sibling, Brok had been trained to fend for the family. Just recently Fremlin had indicated that he felt there was reason to feel unsafe, even though their whole lives had been fine up until then. He told Brok only a few days ago, “The doublesight are not trusted and have been under siege more than normal lately. None of the villages know we're doublesight, but we must be more cautious than ever.” Fremlin had told his son that they were lucky to live in the Brendern Forest near Stilth Alshore because the Three Princes of Crell who ruled Stilth Alshore were friends to the doublesight. Brok wondered how true that was now. Had things changed?

  He and Breel trudged over the rise and shifted into their beast images. Brok made sure that Therin scooted into the log between them. Before crawling in he looked around to get his bearings. Which trees lay to the north? If they had to leave in the night, he needed to know in which direction to run first.

  Brok curled his tail close to his body and put his nose near Therin. He could feel the log shudder a moment and knew that Breel's sadness would make sleeping difficult for her. He let himself mourn, mentally, as much as possible without dragging him back into his human image. The doublesight were once revered, even worshipped. Why they had become feared was a mystery to him. “History,” his father had told him. “Where instinct drives the decisions for beasts, fear drives decisions for humans.” But his family had hurt no one. They kept to themselves.

  The images of Fremlin being beheaded and then of Lina being sliced flashed through Brok's mind and he felt himself begin to shift. He pushed the images from his head. Strange that those same experiences would cause enough fear in Therin to keep him in beast image.

  3

  SCOUTS RETURNED WITH NEWS of the dead. The village archers were gone, returned to their village. Crow clan members were sent to retrieve their wounded brothers. All morning the camp rushed into activity. The sunshine warmed the gravel shore of the Lorensak. Horses whinnied as they were tacked up and harnessed to the wagons. Footfalls crunched against stone. Voices rose to a low murmur over the rushing sound of the river. Each wagon endured a rigorous check for sturdiness in expectation of rough travel.

  Zimp caught brief conversations concerning those who had died. She recognized a variety of family members and distant cousins. Tears were shed for lost children. Still, at Oro's command, the camp gathered its sorrows and prepared to go.

  Arren came around the rear of Zimp's wagon to report to Oro that he had sent scouts north along the Lorensak and that all was clear to continue upriver to the crossing point.

  Zimp sat motionless on a wooden bench near the rear of the wagon, her red cloak pulled close to her body, her head tucked into her shoulders, unlike her usual self.

  Arren placed a hand on her knee. “I lost my brother and closest friend. We are all sad.”

  Zimp did not acknowledge his comment. She brushed his hand away.

  “In a few days, at the council grounds, we'll celebrate the deaths.” He nodded toward Oro before he turned to leave.


  “Help me to lie down,” Oro said to her granddaughter.

  Zimp uncoiled her body from the cloak and stepped closer to Oro. The sun came through the trees overhead and penetrated the multi-colored canvas that lay over the wagon. A display of red, yellow, and blue spread over both cots and the floor. Zimp held the old woman's hand and guided her to her bunk.

  Oro sat for a moment, then allowed Zimp to lower her onto the cot and to lift her feet into place. Oro reached out and grabbed Zimp's wrist before she could turn away. “Talk with her,” she said.

  “I can't. I'm not that far along. It's still difficult to hear Mom's voice.”

  “Zora was your twin, dear. There is a bond there. A greater bond than with a parent.” Oro let go of Zimp.

  “I'll try,” Zimp said.

  Oro turned toward the canvas side of the wagon. “This will be quite a ride today,” she mused aloud, “for these old bones.”

  Zimp returned to the rear bench so that she could see out the canvas opening. There was no mention of Oro's intuitive abilities or why she hadn't sensed the potential for attack. Zimp went limp with regret that Oro was getting old and perhaps not able to sense such dangers any longer.

  As the horses began to move forward, the wagon pitched to the left and right, shifting over increasingly larger stones, heading toward the edge of the tree line that bordered the river.

  Zimp grabbed for the edge of her seat and held on. She leaned against the rear corner post to help steady her body. Although gregarious at times, and often social, Zimp also needed privacy and quiet. The ability to appear playful or shy made her a good pickpocket and thief. Yet now, she relished the sense of being secure and cozy, tucked away in the wagon.

  It was Zora who had wanted to command all the time. If she were alive, Arren would be taking direction from Oro through Zora.

  Zimp didn't mind the limelight, but retracted from the responsibility. Zora had craved it.

  The northbound caravan followed animal paths along the plains and as close to the river as possible. The creaking and rattling wagons frightened small herds of elk and buffalo that were chased from one grazing area to another. Where animal paths meandered down near the river, Arren lead the way making his own wider pathways. The hope was to avoid contact with humans, whether in villages or traveling the main roads. As Arren guided the caravan into the edge of the field, mounds of dirt, varmint holes, and ground-bird nests all made the traveling unsteady.

  Zimp bounced and bucked in the back of the wagon. She heard Oro moan when a great jolt pitched her to one side or the other.

  The sun rose to Zimp's right and burned against her cheek. She squinted. The golden and green grass around the wagon wheels tangled in the spokes and tore from the ground creating a clearing of tracks and a haze of floating seeds. The new pathways would make it easy for the villagers to follow, although that wouldn't be very smart. Six archers were a small number against a hundred or more crow clan. They had been surprised once, but that wouldn't happen again. All those deaths for very little in jewelry and utensils.

  “All those deaths,” Zimp heard. She raised up from her seat and stuck her head outside to look around. The wind caused the field of grass and weeds to ripple and shift. The breeze came from the northeast. “Hello?” Zimp said.

  Oro rolled onto her side. “Zora is speaking to you.”

  “No.”

  “You should not be surprised,” Oro said.

  “This soon? She'd try to contact me this soon?”

  Oro let out a long breath and waited for a moment. The wagon pitched forward and to the left. “We forgot our ritual this morning,” she said.

  Zimp turned in question.

  “You wonder why no one noticed the sneak attack. Perhaps a moment of quiet and a call to the other realms would have caused a shudder in our ritual,” Oro said.

  “We were excited for the morning,” Zimp said.

  “Birds love morning sunrise.”

  “That's what we are.”

  Oro grunted. “We are human with bird images. Human first. Have you forgotten as well? Morning satisfied Zora's need to rush into a decision and abandon her gifts.” Oro reached for Zimp to help her sit up.

  “Just lie there. I'll come to you.” Zimp rocked with the pitch of the wagon as she crawled to Oro's side and sat on the rag-made carpet over the floorboards. She held Oro's hand.

  “You will make a better leader,” Oro said.

  “Arren can lead.”

  “You don't mean that. We both know that Arren is angry and demanding. He may be able to lead an army, but you will lead a people. Now that Zora is in the next realm, your advanced training begins.”

  “I'd rather be in the backgroun, invisible when necessary. Let someone else lead. You have many years in you. Watch the clan. Select a better candidate. It doesn't have to be family.”

  Oro smiled at her granddaughter and shook her hand. “What did Zora say to you?”

  “All those deaths,” she told Oro. “She repeated my thoughts back to me.” Zimp looked away and said, “Perhaps I was hearing things.”

  “Perhaps,” Oro said.

  In a few hours, the wagons halted. Zimp leaped from her seat and greeted Arren, who stopped promptly in front of her as though he knew his place. “I thought we'd stop, eat, and then cross the river just ahead,” he said.

  “You know best,” Zimp said looking up at his eyes. “Oro's resting.”

  “How is she faring?”

  “She's not that old,” Zimp snapped.

  “I meant nothing.”

  She nodded. “I know you didn't mean anything but concern for her. Well, she's doing fine. This route isn't the smoothest for any of us.”

  Arren continued to stand in front of Zimp.

  “Anything else?” she said.

  “It's allowable for us to camp here for a meal?” he said.

  Zimp raised her hands and opened her palms as if to say that it was his decision. “If you say it is,” she said.

  Arren grimaced, then turned on the balls of his feet and stepped away abruptly, off to announce the plan.

  “That was awkward and strained,” Oro said from behind Zimp.

  “Zora…”

  Oro shook her head. “Don't want to hear it.”

  As the sun passed slowly overhead, the clan gathered in a great circle. Oro dragged Zimp into the center of the circle with her. At a makeshift altar made from a wooden bench encircled in pine branches, Oro placed two candles. She lit one and spoke a prayer for the lost members of their clan. “The next realm,” she said, “has called to us. It has pulled many numbers from the lottery. It has selected the best and the worst for its own plan. The next realm has begun gathering together its own army for a battle and it needed our help.” Oro pointed for Zimp to light the other candle.

  With her hands shaking, Zimp poured some powder onto a twig. She cracked two flints together and the powder caught fire in a flash. She lifted the twig and lit the second candle. Before she could shake the twig's flame out, the candle snapped and spit sparkles into the air. Zimp jumped. Sparkle candles were for special purposes. What special purpose did Oro see in their lunchtime prayer?

  Oro opened her arms to include the wide circle of doublesight who sat around her. “We come into the circle in sorrow and in pride. We are saddened for our loss and joyous for their gain. Our friends. Our families. All who have moved on will be there to help us. Today we celebrate their lives and deaths.” She pinched each candle out by licking her fingertips and lightly squeezing each wick.

  The emotion of the clan had changed in that short time. They held to Oro's words, accepted them, acted on them. Zimp held to them, too. She helped Oro collect her candles and stand up to go back to the wagon. The altar would be taken care of.

  “A brief goodbye,” Oro said.

  “And a joyous dance,” Zimp added the saying of their clan whenever someone died. There was more to the saying: A tear and a laugh. One realm leads to the next. Life leads to life. An
eternity in time. Infinite in distance. We all walk the same road homeward.

  Back at the wagon, still in thought, Zimp helped Oro return her sacred items under one of the benches. “It wasn't my place to light the candle,” she said.

  “It is your right,” Oro corrected.

  “I was not selected. Zora was.”

  “And Zora was needed elsewhere. Now, you are selected.”

  “Why?”

  Oro placed an arm around Zimp's waist. “No more questions. It is time to accept.”

  Zimp helped her grandmother to the side of the river where the clan met for a quick bite to eat. She lowered Oro onto a fallen tree trunk, then strolled farther down river before she sat down.

  Zimp watched the water slip past as though it were oblivious of the hundred or so doublesight along its shores, oblivious of the trees and the sky. She wished she could ignore everything and everyone and just flow easily through life.

  “Zimp?” Arren held a piece of pan bread with dried fish paste spread over it. He thrust the bread toward her and sat on the stones next to her feet once she took it.

  “I am not your favorite cousin,” he said. “I know this. But I will say what I must. You don't appear to be strong enough to lead us.” He lowered his own pan bread and let it rest on his thigh. He looked into Zimp's eyes. “Although my allegiance is to Oro. I trust her completely.” He appeared to be thinking. When he looked up again, he said, “You probably couldn't tell, but she had selected you from the start. Zora was a front while you were being trained in the dark arts.”

  “That's not true,” Zimp said.

  “I wish it were not true, but I am not mistaken. I can see clearly when it comes to warrior training.”

  “I don't want it to be true.”

  Arren picked up his bread and stood. “Should Oro die, you can choose another,” he said before walking off.

  Zimp watched him go. He hated her, she thought. He'd listen to Oro as long as she was alive, but he had already begun to take over. Once the clan recognized him as surrogate leader for Oro, it would be a small thing for him to continue in the lead. Zimp didn't want to expend the energy it would take to expunge Arren's apparent need to command. The intuitive arts took silence and a softness of spirit. How did Oro balance the external demands of energy necessary for leadership with the meditation and quiet needed for communication with other realms? Zimp wished that Oro would choose someone else.