The Beasts of Barakhai

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Only quiet consideration filled the hush after Collins’ description, so he felt obliged to continue. “I’ve met some wonderful people.” He made a gesture that encompassed Falima and Zylas. Though he did not intentionally leave out Ialin, he made no particular effort to include the hummingbird either. He sucked air through pursed lips, thinking. “I suppose I might find the rest of the people worth meeting, too, under other circumstances. I can hardly blame the guards for the way they treated me. I had just . . .” A lump filled his throat suddenly, blocking the words he intended to speak. As he tried to force them out, his eyes brimmed with tears, and he dropped the attempt.

  No one came to Collins’ rescue, though he thought he caught a subtle nod between Prinivere and Zylas.

  Casually, Collins wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve and changed the subject. “Lady, I don’t know exactly what my companions told you, but I came to see you to find out if you knew of any portals to my world other than the one I came through.”

  “I know,” Prinivere said, her voice a dull rasp.

  Ialin settled on a shriveled shoulder. Falima lowered herself to one of the chests, listening on the fringes. As usual, she could understand only half the conversation, at most. Collins wondered whether the old woman actually used fluent English or some device translated her words into whatever language necessary for comprehension by every listener. He only knew he used English exclusively and carried nothing to make it sound like anything else.

  “You know?” Collins needed clarification, but before he could voice it, Prinivere continued.

  “I know the reason you came to me. Your companions told me.”

  Good. Collins nodded.

  “There are no other portals.”

  Stunned by bad news so unceremoniously and abruptly delivered, Collins froze, speechless. Zylas should have told him that days ago and rescued him from this ridiculous charade. The Barakhains could have kept their beloved elder safe, unmet and unknown, and they would not have wasted time taking some inane, meandering path to her. Gradually, the full implications seeped into a mind already plagued with desperation. They had no choice but to return to the place where Collins had started and find a way past a contingent of archers.

  “But—” Prinivere said. That one word seemed to float, alone in a vast vacuum of hope. It felt to Collins like hours passed before she continued, though she never paused. “—I might be able to create a new portal.”

  Still unmoving, Collins lost his breath. “Create . . . one?” He forced the words out, then gasped in a clumsy breath accompanied by saliva. He choked, coughing so vigorously that Falima leaped to her feet and patted his back helpfully.

  Wanting to hear what Prinivere had to say, Collins waved Falima off and tried to control his seizing diaphragm.

  But Prinivere did not go on. Turning her attention to Zylas, she engaged the albino in conversation while Collins lost the battle to his cough.

  For several moments, Collins struggled, throat raw and full. Finally, the spasms died to a tickle, and he regained control of speech. “Sorry.” His voice sounded hoarse and unrecognizable. “Did you say you could create a portal?”

  Prinivere spun back to face Collins. “I said I might be able to, yes.”

  “So . . .” Collins kept his sentence slow to avoid the need to cough again. “. . . you’re . . . a sorceress?”

  Prinivere’s recessed eyes narrowed, so they seemed to disappear into the wrinkles. “Sorceress.” She ran the word over her tongue, then shook her head. “Not sure what you mean.”

  Collins sought synonyms. “A witch.” He watched Prinivere’s face for clues to her disposition to see if the word had the same negative connotations here as back home. “A magician. A wizard. A person who uses magic.”

  “No such thing,” Zylas grunted. “People, magic.” He shook his head. “Don’t go together.”

  Collins suppressed an urge to laugh. If people turning into animals isn’t magic, what is? He kept the thought to himself. It seemed the populace had little control over the transformation. “You have magic,” he reminded.

  “I carry a magical item,” Zylas admitted, though he glanced around as he did so, as if afraid someone outside their group might overhear. “That doesn’t make me a user of magic.”

  In strict terms, of course, it did; but Collins decided it was better not to make an issue of such a thing. “If not by magic, how do you make a portal?” Collins wondered if he might have the means to do it himself.

  “Making a portal does require magic.” Zylas confused the issue still further. “That’s why we need the lady’s help.”

  “But she’s not a sorceress.”

  “No,” Prinivere patted her hair into place.

  “So you have some sort of portal-making item.”

  “No such thing.” Zylas said.

  Clear as mud. Collins sighed and took the chest seat Falima had vacated. “I don’t get it.”

  “You will,” Zylas promised with all the believability of a politician a week before an election. “You will.”

  An undertone in the albino’s voice made Collins wonder if he wanted to.

  Chapter 11

  Prinivere wandered to the farthest corner of the cave to sleep while Collins discussed matters fervently with the one companion who did understand him and insisted on translating for the one who did not. Twilight faded from the opening and the cave so gradually that, even in a darkness that might have seemed solid under other circumstances, Collins found himself able to differentiate between the gray silhouettes of his companions.

  “Let’s talk about those rats back at the lab.” Though redirected several times, Zylas always returned to the matter Collins now fervently wished he had never raised.

  Collins sighed, certain he would have to change his major. After this day, he might never find the courage to euthanize another experimental animal. That, or fill my home with pet rats, mice, guinea pigs, and monkeys. He imagined the look of horror twisting his landlady’s meaty features; she screamed at the sight of a large spider. “They’ll be fine,” Collins insisted with a finality he hoped would satisfy his companion—this time. “They’ve got plenty of water till my preceptor gets back.” Is that today? “At most they’ll go a day without food, and their cages will stink a bit.”

  Zylas’ expression remained taut.

  Collins laid an arm across the albino’s shoulders. “Look, man. There’s nothing we can do about it, is there? The whole school’s getting back tomorrow. Believe me when I say every biology professor at Algary will head straight for the lab.” Where they’ll see the crappy job I did and flunk me on the spot. More concerned for his future than the temporary comfort of a bunch of laboratory rats, Collins again sought a topic switch. “So what’s the big secret about Prinivere anyway? I mean, besides the fact that she’s a woman when you had me believing she was a man.”

  Zylas shrugged off Collins’ arm. “Lady Prinivere,” he corrected in a bristly voice. “And I don’t recall ever calling the lady a man.”

  “Not directly.” Collins admitted. “But you did refer to her only as ‘the elder.’ Never even used a pronoun as far as I remember. Didn’t correct me when I called her ‘him’.”

  “That’s you assuming, not deception.” Zylas paced to Falima and joined her on the chest.

  Depends on what the definition of “is” is. Collins shook off the presidential comparison. “You can claim you didn’t lie. But not correcting an assumption you knew was false is deception.” He straddled the opposite chest, facing Zylas directly. “Are you going to tell me it’s different in your world?”

  Zylas conceded with a sigh. “I’m sorry. Vernon thought that, if we never made it to the lady, any information you had that the guards might get would be . . . misleading. He’s a smart man, and it seemed safest at the time.”

  Falima poked Zylas’ back, and he turned to translate.

  A sensation of being watched spiraled through Collins suddenly, and he shivered, glancing
toward the cave mouth. “You’ve managed to deflect my question again, I notice. What exactly—” The hair on the nape of his neck prickled. A realization of intense and imminent danger grasped his gut like an icy hand. His heart raced into wild pounding, and words caught like a sticky lump in his throat. Panic sent him lurching to his feet, and he skittered to the cave mouth before logic trickled between otherwise ravaged thoughts. What the hell?

  Pressed against the stone wall, Collins glanced back into the cave. Zylas and Falima had also risen, their backs to him. Though they had not run, they did seem agitated. A dinosaurlike creature took up most of the back of the cave: long-necked and -legged, covered in greenish-black scales that seemed to glow. Plates jutted from the neck, back, and tail, which ended in a ragged scar. “Dr-dragon?” Collins stammered out the only English word that might suit this massive animal. Though he knew it must be Prinivere’s switch-form, he could not force himself to reenter the cave.

  Ideas rushed back into Collins’ mind. Memory came first, of a girl he had dated in college. A fan of aliens, angels, and conspiracy theories, she had once brought him a book that “conclusively proved” the existence of dragons. For the purposes of domestic harmony, he had read it, a pseudoscientific account filled with blurry photographs, anecdotal sightings, and misconceptions a freshmen science student should see through. He had tried to argue the biological impossibility of a heavy, four-legged creature with wings. If dragons did exist, he had asserted, they would look like pteranodons. Wings had served as the forelimbs of every flying animal throughout history.

  Now, Collins stared upon a creature that defied every biological tenet. Big as a school bus, it had to weigh tons. Strong hind legs ended in massive, four-clawed feet. The forelimbs had three toes, each with talons that closely resembled curved knives. Leathery appendages near the shoulders clearly represented folded wings. It bore little resemblance to the serpents of the Chinese New Year’s parades, its body blocky and its snout more like that of a Doberman. It bore none of the decorative finery, no streamers, beards, or spinners. The ears stuck up, shaped and proportioned like a horse’s, jet black in color. Eyes like emeralds lay recessed deeply into its sockets.

  A voice entered Collins’ head, seeming to bypass his hearing. *I won’t hurt you. Come.*

  Collins pawed at his ears, willing them to work properly; his life might depend on it. The reassurance, apparently the dragon’s, did not soothe. He found himself incapable of taking a step closer to a creature that could shred him, crush him, or bite him in half without breaking a sweat.

  Zylas took several nervous steps, bowed to the dragon, then hurried to Collins. “You’re insulting Lady Prinivere,” he hissed.

  In response, Collins pressed his back more tightly to the wall. Vines tickled his arms, and stone jabbed his spine. He tried to explain, “She’s a . . . she’s a . . . a dragon.”

  “Yes.”

  “We . . . we . . . don’t have . . . dragons . . . in my world.”

  “Neither do we.”

  The ludicrousness of that statement finally broke the spell. Collins turned his head slowly toward Zylas to grant him a judgmental stare. “I beg to differ.”

  Zylas took one of Collins’ hands in both of his. “Except Lady Prinivere, of course. She’s the last.”

  Collins looked at the hand clamped between Zylas’ and hoped the albino did not plan to try to drag him back into the cave. He wiped his other sweating palm on his britches and tried to screw up his courage.

  “The others were killed off centuries ago.”

  “By knights, no doubt.” Collins resorted to his usual haven, humor, to orient his failing rationality.

  Zylas tugged gently at Collins. “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” It seemed worse than senseless to try to explain legends at a time when reality had gone beyond them.

  “It’s all right. Really. Come meet her.”

  Collins looked at the dragon, still hesitating. Falima faced the dragon, clearly engaged in conversation, arms waving at intervals. If Prinivere responded, she did so without opening her mouth. “She could eat us all in the same bite.”

  “Eat us?” Zylas rolled his eyes. “She’s constrained by the same laws as the rest of us. Can’t eat any meat, remember?”

  “Who could stop her?” Collins muttered, but he did take a step forward. Prinivere posed no more threat to him than the guardsmen, and she might hold the only key to his escape. He managed another step.

  Zylas released Collins’ hand. Falima turned, impassively watching her friends approach. As he drew closer, Collins noticed details he had missed on first inspection. The glow that outlined the dragon seemed as feeble and tattered as a dying star. Most of the claws looked jagged, broken beyond repair. Scars marred her scaly hide in several locations, the worst a mottled, irregular patch in the right chest area. She moved with a slowness that suggested long-standing fatigue. Her dragon form had clearly aged along with her human one.

  *Actually, it’s my human form that aged along with the dragon form.* The words whispered into Collins’ brain, unspoken.

  Collins jumped, heart racing again.

  *Yes, I read minds. That’s how I know every language.*

  Collins had not yet recovered enough to ask the question she had already answered. Remembering that he needed her, he forced calm. If she predicts my future thoughts, too, why bother to communicate at all? “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just told me how this whole conversation’s going to come out?”

  Prinivere exhaled a loud snort that Collins interpreted as a laugh. *I don’t usually anticipate. It’s just, after a few centuries, you figure out what any human would ask. Never met one yet who didn’t wonder how I get into his or her head.*

  Collins glanced at his regular companions. Zylas and Falima sat on one of the chests, whispering back and forth. He wondered how much of the conversation they could hear.

  *All of it,* Prinivere said before Collins could formulate the thought into words. *But Falima doesn’t understand your side of it, and Zylas has to guess the thoughts I’m responding to.*

  Zylas looked up and waved to Collins, apparently to confirm Prinivere’s explanation.

  Though he knew the question impolite, Collins had to know. “So how old are you anyway?”

  “—my lady,” Zylas added, teeth clenched in warning.

  *It’s fine, Zylas.* Prinivere swung her long neck toward the rat/man. *In his world, they rarely use titles. He means no disrespect.* She swiveled her head back to Collins. *I’m one thousand seven hundred thirty-six years old.*

  Collins blinked, for the first time glad his mind went blank. “One thousand?”

  *Seven hundred thirty-six.*

  “Ah,” Collins said, pinching his arm. The mild pain did not reassure him. It seemed equally possible that he had just dreamed it, too.

  Zylas cut in, voice soft, words uninterpretable to Collins. If Prinivere responded, he heard none of it.

  Finally, the dragon addressed Collins directly. *Come here. I’m going to attempt some magic.*

  Hoping she meant the portal, Collins obeyed. He tried to look composed, but his steps turned more mincing the nearer he came to the dragon and he found himself trembling. Falima cleared her throat, and Collins dropped to a startled crouch, glancing wildly toward her. Ialin stood in human form between his other two companions.

  Falima made an impatient gesture toward Prinivere. Collins followed the movement to its natural conclusion. He did not know how long it had taken him to move as far as he had. It had seemed only seconds, but Ialin had had time to switch and fully dress. Collins closed his eyes, hoping that would allow him to walk blindly into a dragon, yet its massive presence still pressed vividly against his memory. Opening his lids, he forced himself to step up to Prinivere.

  She gave off a not-unpleasant odor that Collins had never smelled before. It might come from something she ate, some nearby plant or fungus, even from something trapped between her claws. But, for Collins, the musky
allspice aroma would forever define dragon smell.

  One foot stretched toward Collins, slowly, non-threateningly, and settled firmly on his head. At first, he felt nothing but the presence of that huge appendage, a claw dangling across his left cheek and ear and another tangling in his hair. Then, gradually, he recognized something indefinable flowing into him, like electric current without the jolt. The foot grew heavier over time, and he found himself expending increasing amounts of energy to remain standing. Finally, the strange feeling ended, replaced entirely by the full weight of a massive foot crushing him toward the ground.

  Zylas, Falima, and Ialin dashed forward, hefting the dragon’s claw and shoving Collins from beneath it. The foot flopped to the cave floor, and the dragon sank to the ground. Pain ached through Collins’ neck and shoulders. As he massaged them, rolling his head, he noticed the dragon was lying still, unmoving. “Is she all right?”

  Zylas rushed to Prinivere’s side.

  Falima responded. “She’s very old. Even a simple spell like that one leaves her drained.”

  Collins nodded, still studying the dragon. Then, realization struck, and he jerked his attention to Falima. “Hey, I understood you. I know what you said, and—”

  Ialin rolled his eyes.

  Not wanting to look the fool again, Collins considered. “That must be what the magic she did was all about.”

  “Lucky guess,” Ialin grumbled.

  “She’s sleeping,” Zylas announced. “We’ll have to stay and keep her safe until she’s strong again.”

  It seemed only fair. Prinivere had exhausted herself for him, and he owed her at least that much. Nevertheless, Collins could not stay the icy seep of disappointment overtaking him. “The portal,” he said to no one in particular, now far enough beyond shock and confusion to realize that Prinivere would only have assumed he needed to communicate with the people of Barakhai if she knew she could not get him home soon.