The lost Dragons of Barakhai bob-2

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  A voice entered Collins' mind.*What's happening? Why did you bring her here?*

  Collins stiffened in surprise, then realized Prinivere hid not far from where tie stood. He stifled the urge to look around for her. His searching might attract Quinton's attention, and he would not reveal the old dragon without permission. He concentrated on his thoughts, trying to give Prinivere a quick and dirty image of all that had transpired. If you fix her face, she'll release Zylas and tell us where to find the dragons. He recalled that Prinivere had once healed him after the king's guards had injured him and he had fallen down the stone stairs. She had managed it before she even had the enhancing crystal, stating that healing spells took less energy than most. *Fix her face?* Prinivere seemed stunned by the revelation.*Ben, I can't do that.*

  I ruined it. It seems only fair-

  Prinivere broke in before he could finish the focused thought.*I don't mean I won't. I mean I can't. I'm not capable of doing such a thing.*

  Shocked, Collins did not consider his words carefully. Are you kidding me? Of course you are! You made me look like this. He caught himself reaching toward his face and stopped his hands in mid-movement.

  Apparently finished glancing around the craggy, empty room, Quinton jostled Collins' arm. "Why are we just standing here? What happens next?"

  Startled from his mental conversation, it took Collins a moment to find his tongue. "We… we… " He licked his lips, summoning saliva in a mouth gone uncomfortably dry. "We-"

  Prinivere continued the previous conversation,*Yours is illusion, not healing. It's temporary.*

  "We," Quinton prompted, seizing Collins' forearm. "We what?" *If I could heal old wounds, Ben, don't you think I'd start with my own?*

  Collins remembered the ugly lines and puckers that marred the dragon's murky green scales, the ragged tail tip. The wounds she had healed for him had been fresh bruises, abrasions, and cuts.

  Quinton's grip tightened, painful in its persistence. Caught in the middle, Collins froze, mind dangerously blank.

  At that moment, a dog raced from the dark depths of the cave, barking a welcome that rang through the confined space. Collins recognized the voice, then the gangly form, an instant before it struck him full in the chest. Bowled over, he toppled, dragging Quinton down with him, Korfius lapping at his face.

  Collins shoved the dog aside, thrusting a protective arm in front of his face. "Stop it! Down, Korfius." He used the opening to clamber to his feet, then offered Quinton a hand as the hound capered and pranced around him.

  Quinton accepted Collins' hand but sprang to her feet without allowing him to carry more than a modicum of her weight. She struggled to readjust the veil.

  "Korfius, no!" Collins put his most demanding tone into his voice. "Korfi-" Only then, his mistake struck him, and he looked at a brow-furrowed Quinton.

  She voiced his worst fear. "So that's not Korfius in the dungeon."

  Collins tried not to sound defensive. "I never said it was."

  "You implied it." A dangerous edge entered Quinton's Lone.

  "No." Collins would not allow himself to be bullied. He had made too many errors. "You assumed it."

  "So, who is your partner in crime?"

  Collins knew his answer, no matter how evasive or vague, would still give Quinton a clue. The more defensive he seemed, the more important the identity would grow until it became obvious. He shrugged, then smiled, trying to appear nonchalant and hoping Quinton would see it all as part of the continuing game. "You know the deal. Healing first." He squeezed Quinton's hand, still caught in his.

  "That wasn't even part of the deal," she reminded.

  "Exactly." Collins saw that as making his point.

  "I thought you loved me."

  "I do." Even though he had not spoken the actual words this time, Collins' response still stuck in his mouth, a chore to verbalize. "But my coconspirator might not." He took her into his arms, surprised to find himself aroused by her again despite his discomfort and dislike. She was still a beautifully contoured woman, soft and delicate against him. He hoped Prinivere saw through the necessary deceit, then realized she would also read his lust. Cheeks warming, he forced his thoughts away from his penis. "If I betrayed the trust of a friend, even to you, could you ever trust me again?" Now, Collins realized, he had placed Quinton in a vulnerable position. If she pressed much further, she compromised the integrity of both of them.

  Quinton pursed her lips. "I trusted the social workers who told me my mother could stop drugging and drinking and get her act together."

  "You were four," Collins reminded. "And you didn't. After a year or so, you stopped believing them. Because they had violated your trust." He whispered directly into her ear. "I'm not going to do that." He meant that he would not reveal his jailed companion's identity; but, even as the words left his mouth, he realized she would take them a different way. She would see it as a promise never to betray her, a vow he had no intention of keeping. Eventually, she would learn that he did not love her, that he never had. What have I done? He refused to surrender to guilty contemplation. Zylas' safety had to take priority over Carrie Quinton's feelings, no matter how hard her past life or how deeply her hatreds festered.

  Korfius' nails gouged Collins' leg.

  "Ow!" Collins ripped from Quinton's embrace to turn his wrath on the dog. "Stop that! Bad dog."

  Korfius lowered his head, ears flipped backward, and whined softly.

  Thoughts of betrayal gave Collins an idea. Lady, canyon hear me? *Certainly,* Prinivere returned.*I just didn't want to interrupt.* She added soothingly,*You're handling a tricky situation as well as an honest man can.*

  Though clearly meant as a compliment, the words fueled Collins' shame. If you can still call me an honest man, you must have no idea what I'm thinking right now. *You want me to illusion her face to look as if I've healed it.* As eerily as always, Prinivere had again accurately read his mind.*But I can't do that.*

  Frustration flooded Collins, along with a hint of relief. He had no other ideas, but he did not want to toy with Quinton any more than he already had. Why not? *Because I never saw her before the accident I'd need to have studied her face to get it right, and…* Prinivere's worried tirade ground to a halt as another idea formed in Collins' head.*But you have a solution to that, don't you?*

  Collins felt Quinton's warm presence beside him, simultaneously desirable and revolting. Korfius lay obediently at his heels, and he remembered the man who had led them into the cave who stood silently by the entrance. Aisa flew inside the cave behind them and settled on a rocky prominence. It's called a photograph, he explained. An image of a person recorded at a certain point in time. Like a portrait, only instantaneously and exactly detailed. The first time they met, Quinton had shown him the contents of her wallet to prove her identity, including her driver's license and student photo ID. She had no need to continue to carry it in Barakhai, but she might do it from habit or for a sense of security, the same way Collins had instinctively fastened his keys to his belt loop before heading to the portal.

  Prinivere asked no further questions. Either she trusted Collins or gleaned enough from his thoughts to fully understand the concept.*If both of you concentrate on what she looked like, I should he able to put together a reasonably accurate likeness. But that photograph-thing would be better.*

  Collins addressed Quinton. "Would you happen to still have your wallet on you? The lady needs a picture."

  Quinton glanced around the cave, surely seeking "the lady"; but, without some clue from Collins, she did not know where to look. He trusted the renegades to have hidden Prinivere reasonably well. The woman patted her left hip. "Strangely enough, I do have my wallet. I almost always do." Her lips framed a crooked smile of embarrassment. "I arrived here unexpectedly. And-"

  Prinivere filled in a detail Collins had never considered.*She stopped herself from saying that she entered a third "world" as accidentally as this one.*

  Collins' eyes widened. Catchin
g himself reacting to a nonverbal communication, he covered by rubbing his eyes. Once Quinton realized he had brought her into the presence of a mind reader without warning, all cooperation would end.*A third world? Where?* *That's all I could get. I only hear surface thoughts, and she's a particularly hard read.*

  Quinton finished, "-and I always worried I might step into some room or cave and find myself back…"

  Collins naturally finished with "home," so Quinton's words caught him by surprise.

  " where we came from." She turned a sheepish smile on him. "Silly, huh?"

  So, Barakhai is home now. And Algary is "that place we came from." Collins said the necessary words. "Not silly at all. I'd probably do the same, if I had brought a wallet with me." He shrugged. "After losing everything on my last visit, I knew better than to bring it this time." Collins could not let Prinivere's revelation go. A third world? Really? How many are there? *Only two that I know of.* Despite the significance of their conversation, Prinivere redirected Collins to what currently mattered,*Take that wallet thing, and let's get going on this.*

  Deep in thought, Collins obeyed.

  While Collins hurriedly changed into clean underwear, jeans, a T-shirt, socks, shoes, and his glasses, the unfamiliar man rigged a curtain across the back of the cave, with two slits that admitted the dragon's claws. It seemed safer to Collins to blindfold Carrie Quinton, hut the magic required Prinivere to access all parts of the woman's face, including her eyes. He would also have preferred the task done while Prinivere held woman form, but they did not have time to quibble. Once she completed the process, he would count himself lucky to save Zylas before his switch.

  As magic flowed from dragon to woman, and the harsh scars of Quinton's face faded to her normal, soft contours, Collins paced wildly. He knew the woman had mastered biology and would recognize that those claws belonged to nothing in their own world. Quinton had worked with the young dragons and would notice how the claws seemed more birdlike than mammalian, their size and shape, the lack of anything resembling paw pads. Others might wonder, but Quinton would know a dragon had healed her and might report that fact to the king.

  Stop worrying. They already know we have a dragon. He took momentary satisfaction from the image of Prinivere plunging down on the soldiers at the portal entrance, their disciplined ranks exploding into screaming chaos. As terrifying as he had found the situation, they must have found it doubly so, since they had no reason to believe the creatures still existed. He could liken it to warriors on a battlefield suddenly menaced by a pterodactyl, but that would not catch the full scope of these men's experience. At least the men of the twenty-first century had seen 747s and Jurassic Park movies.

  Korfius trotted at Collins' side, invigorated by the constant movement of the master who would not be comforted. The only one who might have the right words to calm him was too engrossed in the process to speak them. Aisa watched with uncharacteristic quietness, letting out only an occasional soft grunt, her head feathers ruffled like a hatchling's.

  Collins glanced at his wrist repeatedly, each time remembering that he had not taken the time to riffle through his pack for his watch. Now, he felt lost without it, at the mercy of circumstances and a nonsensical world that violated many of the tenets he relied on as facts. His mind edged back to the day an avowed Catholic coworker had argued with his father, a balding, conservative man of few words. "After all," the Catholic had argued haughtily, "evolution is only a theory." James Collins had ended the conversation with a gruff: "So's gravity, but I wouldn't go jumping out any windows." Now, huge men morphed into tiny mice, four-legged dragons bore wings that could support their massive weight, and animals shared a digestive system with their human alter egos. Gravity seemed like the only scientific principle Benton Collins could still count on.

  "How's that?" Aisa said suddenly, and Collins jumped at the coarse sound. He whipped his attention toward the blue and gold macaw who stood with her head cocked, one eye fixed on Quinton, the pupil widening and contracting in an instant. The reek of ozone filled the air.

  Collins guessed the question actually came from Prinivere, though she must have thought it wiser to direct her mental communication solely at Aisa. If the dragon had a physical voice, Collins had never heard it. He peered around the women to look. Quinton's features closely resembled those he remembered, minus a year or two of age. "Beautiful. Perfect." He smiled encouragingly.

  Quinton pulled a small mirror from her pocket and examined Prinivere's handiwork from every angle. She made a few suggestions regarding cheek apples and eyebrow widths that made little sense to Collins but sent the dragon's claws diligently back to work on her face. The odor thickened, and a bright series of sparks rose from the contact.

  Collins' pacing grew more frantic as he worried about the time. Once the kingdom realized who it had imprisoned, even Carrie Quinton might not be able to talk them into releasing Zylas.

  Again, Quinton examined her face and again found faults that seemed meaningless and miniscule to Collins. He could not understand why the woman could not just appreciate the second chance at normalcy that Prinivere's magic granted her, why she had to pick and poke at every detail.

  During one of Quinton's surveys, Prinivere explained.*She sees this as her only salvation and doesn't want to regret anything about it.* The dragon gave Collins an intangible smile.*Let her be as fussy as she needs to. We don't get many second chances in life.*

  Collins nodded in understanding, though he barely did. Time constraints weighed heavily on his soul, and hardly noticeable details seemed all the more ludicrous since he knew it was all a temporary illusion. Only then, he recalled his own changed features and wondered how difficult Quinton had found it to take the hand, arm, and embrace of a man who was currently a dead ringer for a female guard. Maybe that's why she could do it. My changed appearance allowed her to put aside that I'm the one she hates most in all the worlds. *I'm concerned about time, too,* Prinivere sent to the earlier parts of Collins' thoughts.*But to rush her would arouse suspicions we can't afford.*

  Collins had to agree, though he did not like it. He needed not only to convince Quinton of the dragon's ability to permanently heal her, he needed to act as if he believed it, too.

  Before Collins could reply, Prinivere directed her attention back to Quinton, erasing lines and blemishes invisible to Collins' eyes. He sighed deeply and resumed his pacing.

  At length, Quinton finally seemed satisfied. She studied her face in the mirror from every angle, reaching to touch her cheek with an expression of perfect awe.

  Remembering Zylas' warning about touching, Collins caught Quinton's hand. "Don't mess with it." Needing a reason besides exposing the illusion, he added, "It has to… to set." Collins hoped that did not sound suspicious or stupid.

  Quinton lowered her hand and smiled.

  Collins found himself staring into a face so gorgeous it left him speechless. The first time he had looked upon Carrie Quinton, he had believed her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Now, his jaw sagged open as he looked upon features brought to smooth, unwavering perfection. *Wow?* Prinivere supplied.

  "Wow," Collins forced out. "You're… you're… absolutely…"

  Now it was Quinton's turn to supply him with words. "Hot?"

  Collins continued to stare. "Hotter than hot. You're drop-dead stunning."

  The grin broadened. "Apparently so."

  Collins shook free of his trance. "Let's go."

  Quinton's smile disappeared. "That's it? You're pretty, let's go?" *Careful,* Prinivere sent.

  Worried about what the old dragon might have read, Collins jerked his attention to her. What? Is she thinking something… dangerous?

  Prinivere's thoughts seemed slowed, vexed.*I only get what's on the surface,* she reminded.*And that's tied up with excitement, curiosity, seeking a perfection that goes way beyond matching what she had. Deep down, that girl's a volcano.*

  Quinton concerned Collins as well, a boiling well spring o
f hatred, mistrust, and need veiled with a thin veneer. I'll be careful But we have to go now. It's got to be close to midnight. *Dangerously close,* Prinivere admitted.*Go and Godspeed.*

  Collins had never understood that expression, and it troubled him doubly now. He had never heard any person in Barakhai mention a deity; and, for the first time, he wondered if they even had religion. Given the inherently magical nature of nearly all the people here, seeking divine explanations for the lesser mysteries of the universe seemed unnecessary. Though no more eerie than many of the other oddities of this place, the lack of a formal system of beliefs gave Collins goose bumps; he had never been anywhere where religion did not play a major role in society. He wondered what Prinivere had actually said and why the spell had translated it into "Godspeed" rather than "good luck" or something equally banal. Now, however, did not seem the time for an explanation. Clutching Quinton's hand more firmly, Collins steered her toward the cave mouth. "Now can we save my companion, sweetheart?"

  "Of course," Quinton studied her reflection in the hand mirror, lips taut as she clearly battled the urge to touch it. Her fingers twitched in his, and her free hand fluttered near her face as if to brush away a few errant strands of hair. *The young dragons,* Prinivere reminded him.*Where are they?*

  Though Collins hated to leap directly into all parts of Quinton's promise so soon after honoring his own, he knew it safer to hear the information in front of others. That way, if something happened to him, the renegades could still rescue the young ones. Also, Prinivere would know if Quinton described some place that did not exist, and he could threaten to take back her new features while still in the presence of the one who had crafted them. An illusionary place. Collins grimaced. Togo with her illusionary face. "So-where are the dragons?"

  Quinton sighed, clearly unhappy with Collins' decision to ply her for information before taking sufficient time to adore her. "They're dead."