The lost Dragons of Barakhai bob-2

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Collins placed a hand on her shoulder and felt a sharp thrill of desire. It was not the first time his young body had responded to such casual contact with a woman, but it felt more honest, more innocent and real. "We're both going to succeed."

  Falima did not seem as certain. "Just in case. I wanted to say-"

  "Don't say 'good-bye.'" It sounded corny, and Collins tried to remember from what movie the line came. He could not even recall what the hero had told his girl to say instead, "farewell," perhaps. "We'll see each other again."

  Collins' optimism was not contagious. Though Falima did not directly contradict him, her expression remained pained and uncertain. She passed the stone between her feet, and Collins found himself idly thinking that she would make a good soccer player.

  Collins placed his other hand on her other shoulder. "Falima, both of these missions have to succeed, or it's all over. Our cause is just."

  Falima pursed her lips, then spoke slowly. "If need and good and justice alone were enough, nothing bad would ever happen."

  "This time," Collins said, "those things will prevail. You have to believe that." She did not have to, and he was not even certain that he did. But going into danger with the right attitude could spell the difference between triumph and failure. "Falima," he started, not sure where he intended to go until the words slipped from his mouth. "I love you."

  Falima finally managed a weak smile. "I know."

  It was not the answer Collins wanted. "Oh."

  "And I love you, too."

  Collins appreciated the addition, but suspected she had not finished. "Like a brother?" he suggested.

  Falima stared, those bluer than blue eyes growing wide.

  "You do have some strange customs in your world. In Barakhai, it's considered anathema to court one's own children, parents, or siblings."

  Collins grinned, too gripped with joy to care about the misunderstanding. She loves me. She really loves me. His hands slid around her back, and he winched her into a tight embrace. She raised her worried face to his, and their lips met in an uncertain kiss that warmed to passion. It all seemed so drearily ironic. He would undertake this mission for her and her cause, yet it might well separate them for eternity. The fact that she could only come to his world as a horse, that even here she spent half her life as an animal, seemed trivial compared to the tasks that awaited them both. They would have to see what changes success brought to figure out how, or even if, they could remain together.

  Falima broke the embrace. "You'd best let go if you don't want to find yourself hugging a horse."

  "Not such a bad thing." Collins enjoyed the sweet musk of her equine aroma, mingled with plant smells and loam. "I happen to know you like scratches behind the ears."

  Falima shook back her hair. "Well, yes, but it's best I change outside. I don't want to step on anything. Would you please gather my clothes when I'm done."

  Collins nodded, watching her walk to the cave mouth. He knew from experience that switching happened quickly and painlessly, nothing like the old werewolf movies where a creepy half-human thing writhed and howled with madness. In fact, when he arrived at the cave mouth, he found the horse silhouetted against the sunrise, her clothing in a heap near her hooves.

  Collins wadded up Falima's clothes, clutching them to his abdomen. They smelled like her, a mixture of her natural body scents, damp, and dried grasses. It tickled his nose, a pleasure he had never noticed in the scoured, perfumed, disinfected, and deodorized world of the early twenty-first century. Me had read about pheromones in animals and the studies that suggested people responded to them as well. Reveling in his girlfriend's dirty laundry, he had to admit they were probably right. *Are you ready?* Prinivere's sudden presence startled Collins from thoughts that turned his ears scarlet. He had forgotten that she could read minds.

  Ready? Collins squeaked in his mind. Ready for what? He shook his head to clear it. "Ready to record your roar, my lady." He patted the mini tape recorder at his belt, thoughts still lost in the cloud of his exchange with Falima.

  Min headed outside, presumably to work on Falima's disguise. His own features had changed dramatically, but Collins did not have a chance to study them in the moments it took the little man to flit past. Aisa sailed out behind him. *I wondered when you two were finally going to get together.*

  The flush spread from Collins' hot ears across his cheeks. "How long have you known?" He forced himself to look at the dragon, into eyes like green flame. *I've lived long enough to see some things coming before they happen.*

  Collins continued to stare into those fire and moonlight eyes. "That's a nonanswer." *Perhaps,* Prinivere said.*But the answer doesn't come down to one moment in time. I've seen the early signs and wondered if they might, come together.* She lowered her head, and her lips pulled back from wicked-looking teeth.*I'm glad they did.*

  Collins resented that he might have had more time with Falima before circumstances separated them, possibly forever. "Why didn't you say something?" *Because my saying something might have changed what happened, even how you felt. You might have seen it as my way of keeping you here, and you would never have faced your true feelings. And it makes no sense to encourage something that might not have a chance. You're not just from different backgrounds, you're from different worlds.*

  Collins had to agree.*Half the time, from different species.*

  Prinivere's shoulders heaved slightly. She had made her point.*So-are you ready?*

  Though uncertain, Collins nodded and checked the buttons. The first time he came into Prinivere's presence, the urge to flee seized him. He wondered if hearing her roar might send him scurrying from the cave.

  Prinivere answered with an unsettling suggestion.*You might want to cover your ears.*

  Trusting Prinivere to warn the others, Collins pressed the record and play buttons, then plastered his hands over his ears. The roar shattered through his defenses, chilling him to the marrow, and he fought the scream building in his own throat. Terror, not reason, rooted him in place. If it hadn't, nothing short of a harness could have kept him from running.

  As the echoes of the sound died away, Collins could hear Falima whinnying wildly in the distance. Heart slamming, rationality returning in a slow trickle, he hit the stop button. "Is Falima… all right?" *Fine.* Prinivere did not elaborate.*Are you?*

  Collins did not answer, not only because he wasn't sure, but because Prinivere could read his state of mind better than he could. *Do you want another?*

  No! Collins forced himself to say, "Yes, please." He had originally planned to try to nil the tape, not knowing how much effort he could expend rewinding and replaying. With less than six hours to work and the unpleasantness of Prinivere's first vocalization, he would settle for two. He pressed the buttons and thought hard, Go! Almost in afterthought, he clamped both palms over his ears. This time, he prepared his mind as well, thinking in a cycle, it's just Prinivere. She won't hurt me. It's just…

  The second roar exploded through his mind, scattering his thoughts and stiffening every muscle. He bit his lip, grabbing for the stabilizing anchor of his chant. It's just Prinivere. The discomfort lessened gradually. This time, when Collins uncovered his ears, he came immediately back to himself. He hit the stop button. *Let's hear,* Prinivere suggested.

  Collins guessed she spoke from curiosity. She wanted to see for herself how the technology worked. He needed to test the recording, to make certain it had not failed and that it displayed the necessary clarity to keep the carnivores at bay. "All right," he said cautiously, pressing the rewind button. The tape hissed for a moment, then the button clicked up. "But please be ready to stop me if I charge off into the ozone." Collins pushed in "play." A half-second of silence was broken by a full-throated roar that could put a chorus of lions to shame. Collins' heart skipped a beat, and he tensed every muscle, but he did not have to fight instinct to remain in place. He thumbed down the volume just as the second roar exploded through the speaker. *Amazing!*


  "Yes," Collins agreed.

  Prinivere dipped her head.*Is that what I sound like?*

  Collins smiled. Some things are the same everywhere. It was the first question nearly everyone in his own world asked after hearing a recording of his or her voice. "Yup." He realized he was not being entirely forthright. "Well, I didn't get the full effect of the real thing, since I covered my ears. It seems the same, and everything I've ever recorded comes out exactly like the original." He frowned. "Your recorded roar, even without my hands covering my ears, doesn't scare me as much as the real thing. I'm not sure if that's because I'm getting used to it or if it's just scarier coming directly from a dragon's mouth." *The carnivores won't know I'm not standing right there.*

  Collins nodded. They would have no knowledge of whatever technology had come to Barakhai since their imprisonment, let alone the much more advanced level of his own world.

  Prinivere lumbered toward Collins and the cave exit.*Ialin has a couple of things for you. Then I think we should head out*

  Collins turned as the dragon walked past him, noting the ancient parchmentlike skin, the swampy gray-green of her scales, the myriad scars. Even the triangular plates that ridged her back looked tired, some flopped over at the tips like the ears of a scraggly mutt. He wondered how closely related her DNA might be to the dinosaurs'.

  Korfius trotted happily after her.

  The dog could not come with him, Collins knew, given the prison wards against switchers. Korfius could not join the other team either since all dogs were guards.

  Prinivere gave Collins the answer to the question he was on the verge of asking.*I'll bring Korfius with us to the caverns. He won't be able to follow you in, so I'll take him back with me. I'll keep him safe until you return.*

  "Thanks." Though Collins appreciated the economy of speech Prinivere's mind reading allowed, it still bothered him. He imagined he now knew how a stutterer must feel when a well-meaning but impatient acquaintance insisted on finishing his sentences for him. Collins wished he had some way to ensure a modicum of privacy. *I can stop it, if it makes you feel uncomfortable.*

  Prinivere's pronouncement caught Collins by surprise as he followed her from the cave. "You can stop reading minds?" *Well, no. But I can stop responding to thoughts until you've spoken them aloud.*

  Collins considered, then shook his head. "Actually, I prefer things as they are." Without the occasional reminder, he tended to forget about Prinivere's skill until he had already become focused on something embarrassing. The ability went so far beyond the logic of his own world that he found it almost impossible to continually bear in mind. Even as the thought came to him, he knew he had just informed Prinivere of his reasons as well. And again. He laughed at the hopeless cycle. He had discovered a few things about her skill. She could read only surface ideas and emotions, and she could only focus on one or two at a time, especially when engaged in conversation. The more the views were steeped in duplicity, the harder she found it to interpret them. Capturing others' thoughts and feelings had often seemed as much a curse as a skill in science fiction novels and movies, yet Prinivere seemed to handle it deftly enough. Of course, she had had thousands of years to adapt, and it did come naturally to her species.

  Prinivere let Collins know she still followed his train of thought.*It's as natural as breathing to a dragon. Learning to deal with spending part of my life as a human was much more difficult to handle.*

  Collins believed that but did not dwell on the image. He headed toward Ialin who worked over an edgy, whickering Falima with bursts of quick movement.

  Ialin gave Collins only a glance. In that instant, he could see the coarser, older features Prinivere had given Ialin. His dark brown eyes had turned hazel, and the shaggy mop of short, brown hair now fell around a bulbous nose and broad cheeks that looked beefy on his slender frame. "Are you done scaring the crap out of Falima?"

  Collins approached the horse with slow gliding movements intended to soothe her. Her eyes rolled backward, and her ears lay pressed against the back of her head. The ground below her was pocked with the scars her prancing hooves had left. "Easy, girl. Good girl." He reached out a hand.

  Falima jerked back her nose and rose into a half-rear, whinnying shrilly.

  "Easy, girl." Collins held his ground, hand still extended.

  Falima nuzzled Collins' fingers. Encouraged, he ran a gentle hand across her muzzle, then scratched behind her ears. His fingers glided over a furry lump, and Vernon scuttled into Falima's mane with an indignant squeak.

  "Sorry," Collins murmured, keeping the apology to Vernon at the same volume and timbre as his words to Falima. He continued to look at the horse as he spoke.

  Falima calmed, nuzzling his shirt.

  Collins looked at Ialin, who watched the exchange, shifting from foot to foot. "Will that do?"

  "Nicely," Ialin said gruffly, holding out a sword to Collins. "I have to admit, you have a way with her that I don't."

  Collins resisted talking about his new relationship with the human form of Falima. "It's all a matter of slow, unthreatening movement. Predators and other dangers come swiftly and suddenly."

  "Predators?" Ialin snorted. "What fear would any horse of Barakhai have of predators?"

  Prinivere came to Collins' aid, to his relief and surprise. On his last visit, Ialin had freely baited him, and Falima had often joined in against him.*Remember, animals and humans were not always one here. Instinct ingrains deeply and often doesn't dislodge even long after it's no longer needed.*

  Collins nodded his agreement, then added, "Plus, all horses, including Falima, are trained as guards. It's usually best to approach them slowly and unthreateningly as well."

  Ialin grunted, the closest he would come to agreeing with Collins. His fidgeting continued. "If you haven't noticed, I don't do slow and steady well. I'm more of a quick and busy mover."

  It was gross understatement. If Collins had not known Ialin turned into a hummingbird, he would have had no trouble guessing it. Not all of Barakhai's inhabitants proved so easy to read, however. Collins would never have believed Vernon's enormous, dark-skinned human form could possibly compress down to a tiny gray mouse. In fact, many Barakhains did not share so much as hair or eye color with their switch-forms, and bearing little resemblance to the animal they became was one way of assessing attractiveness. Falima believed herself homely because her golden skin and black hair matched the buckskin coloring of her horse form and her well-muscled human limbs seemed "horsey."

  Ialin tapped the sheathed blade against Collins' arm. "Are you going to take this?"

  Collins looked at the sword. Cloth blackened by dirt and age hung from the cracked wooden sheath, and only a spiral of bright metal showed where rope or string had once wrapped the grip.

  Guessing at the reason for Collins' hesitation, Ialin said, "I have another. It's not the only one."

  Nodding, Collins took the sword, and Ialin pulled a short knife from his belt.

  "Take this, too."

  Believing he might have more use for that, Collins shifted the sword from both hands to one. He wrapped his fingers around a hilt that had absorbed the morning chill and felt like ice in his grip. Gingerly, he took the knife in his other hand.

  Prinivere lowered herself fully to the ground.*Hop aboard.*

  After several unsuccessful attempts to place the sword comfortably and securely through his belt, Collins secured it through his pack instead. The knife worked better against his hip, though it had no sheath and he was more afraid of accidentally stabbing himself than someone else.

  "Thank you." He headed for Prinivere. "Good luck, Ialin. Good luck, Aisa."

  "Good luck," they called back.

  Collins swung onto Prinivere's back, and Korfius scrambled up beside him. The reality of the task set in at that moment. I'm actually doing this. The coolness of the knife blade seeped through his jeans. Once again, the world had changed and would never, ever, be the same again.

  Chapter 8<
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  BENTON Collins clung to Prinivere's back as she skimmed over the forests, dodging the open areas that revealed Barakhai's occasional towns and cities. The wind whipped his seal-brown hair into a tangle, and the banking movements sent his already squeamish stomach lurching. Only the realization that it would mortify Zylas kept him from vomiting on the dragon's verdant scales. Trees zipped past in a blur of green and brown, while sun and sky seemed to shift position every time the dragon wove, yawed, or banked. Collins tried closing his eyes and concentrating on his many questions, few of which he was likely to find answers for, but he soon found that seeing and feeling the aerial stunts helped his equilibrium more than feeling them alone did. In clear contrast, Korfius seemed to enjoy the ride with the exuberance of most dogs on car rides. He kept his face turned into the wind, ears plastered inside out, jowls flapping.

  Prinivere could not describe the layout of the caverns, given their warding against switchers. She knew a stream flowed through them, providing fresh water for any remaining inhabitants. People occasionally threw foodstuffs, blankets, or other useful items upstream, out of sympathy or from the belief that some ancestor confined there might have spawned them cousins. Even Barakhai's royals were known to order that cadavers be flung into the water when a famine, illness, or a mass execution overwhelmed the vultures, crows, and hyenas who served as Barakhai's gruesome cleanup brigades, the only ones allowed by law to consume meat.

  Prinivere did not even know for certain whether or not the little dragons would be capable of reading or projecting thoughts. The ability came to dragons early, but the parents taught and honed it. Without guidance, they might not learn it at all. Conversely, Collins realized, the youngsters might have discovered the strange form of communication by using it to speak to one another. When Collins spoke the thought aloud, however, Prinivere shook her hoary head. *For a human, twenty years makes an adult but, to us, that's barely toddlerhood.*