Books Of Barakhai - The Lost Dragons Of Barakhai Part 14

As always, Prinivere went straight to the heart. *I'm a switcher. I can't directly accompany you.

But-*

The last words seemed to hover tangibly in the air.

Collins waited, scarcely daring to breathe.

*I can stand at the entrance. My roar-*

This time, Prinivere did not have to finish. "Scares everyone. It should scare the carnivores away, and-" This time, Collins broke off. Though strong and terrifying, her roar did not carry far. "Couldn't you turn me into something... mean? Something even a carnivore wouldn't mess with?"

*Like a dragon?*

Collins' desperate idea had not gotten that specific, but he felt a small glimmer of hope. "That would do."

Prinivere's eyes gleamed, and the edges of her enormous mouth twitched. *If I could do that, the Curse would no longer matter. I could just zap everyone into whatever shape he preferred.*Collins was thinking more along the lines of an illusion.

Prinivere did not wait for him to form the words. *I'm limited to human faces. I could make you unusually ugly...*

"Not necessary." Collins saw no purpose to that. With his luck, an illusion like the one she described would remain stuck in place forever. He looked at his scattered belongings, gaze skipping from clothes, to toiletries to the bits of technology. "I've got it!" He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the tape recorder.

Prinivere's head c.o.c.ked sideways, like a dog trying to make sense of lilting English. She verbalized the details his thoughts supplied her. *It's like that thing you called a photograph. Only sound.*

Collins had never thought of it that way. He scrambled to a crouch. "Right. It captures a sound and allows me to replay it. A few roars into this should keep me safe for a while, as long as I can rewind."

Now that he knew he would not have to change into period clothes, he stuffed the jerky and several biscuits into his front jeans pockets. He put the candy bars into his s.h.i.+rt pocket and crammed the fold-up binoculars into the back pockets of his pants. Looping the recorder strap through his belt, he pushed the machine into its own strap, affixing it. "I'm ready."

Prinivere snorted out a noise that sounded like laughter. Every head swayed toward her, and all conversation ceased. Clearly, she did not do that often.

Collins flushed at the attention. He had gone from abject refusal to leaping almost blindly into the task in moments, without much external convincing. He had spent some time in consideration, but the thing that had finally pushed him over the edge was the realization that he had the ability to come up with solutions for a problem that had once seemed insurmountable.

Prinivere detailed her own timetable. *I'll need to use the illusion magic on Ialin to get him to pa.s.s for the merchant. Aisa's fine as she is, and I don't have any spells to turn a horse into a mule.*

Ialin nodded grimly, tucking a small hand into his filthy, well-worn tunic. "We'll handle that. But I might need some help whipping up a cart and wares, and I'll need some richer clothes." He glanced at Prinivere. "Vernon?"

Prinivere remained silent for several moments as she sorted out a conversation with a mouse who had reasonable, but imperfect, overlap.

While he waited, Collins swiped the deodorant across his armpits and sorted the Tylenol and Turns, half of each into the two bottles. One he returned to the pack, and the other he forced into the biscuit pocket. By the time he finished, he was no longer antic.i.p.ating Prinivere's reply, so her sudden presence in his mind startled him.

*Vernon always has clothes, but he's having trouble grasping the concept of what a merchant might wear. We can fake product. I have a few spells that could help there....*

Ialin's and Prinivere's conversation turned private, leaving Collins alone with his thoughts. Too much consideration would lose the current surge of motivation. The conditions the dragon had described in the caverns could lead to any number of possibilities, from a dangerously lawless society to one that had consumed itself in a matter of a few scant years. As a scientist, he had learned to examine all the possibilities. In Barakhai, he worried that approach might paralyze him into total inactivity. At least, he could count on Prinivere's spell from his last visit to help him master any language they might have constructed during the centuries of isolation. Collins would have the technological advantage; he doubted any king would have provided deadly prisoners with anything they could learn to use as weapons.

Collins did think of more items he might find useful. He emptied his pockets back into his backpack, atop the spare clothing and toiletries. The Snickers had softened from his body heat, and was malleable in his grip. He chose his pocketed items more carefully: the pack of matches in his T-s.h.i.+rt, the taperecorder still looped onto his belt, the beef jerky and a few dog biscuits at his hips.

"Nervous?" Aisa squawked suddenly.

Collins jumped, nearly braining himself on an overhang. He studied the parrot, who returned the favor, head c.o.c.ked. She balanced on a prominence, two toes on each scaly foot stretching forward and two backward. Speckles of dirt and parrot dandruff stippled her otherwise brilliant plumage.

"Apparently," he finally managed with a smile.

"I would be, too," Aisa admitted. She straightened her head. "You should probably take some torches." She hunkered down, measuring distances before launching herself from the stone. Once in the air, she went from clunky to graceful, gliding effortlessly around the craggy interior to land on a box near where Collins had found his pack. "In here."

"Thanks." Collins dropped his pack and headed toward her.

Korfius looked up from where he lay, straight-legged and sideways, on the ground. His tail whacked the dirt, but he did not bother to rise.

Collins hefted the lid of the trunk to reveal a stack of wood wrapped at one end in oily rags. He took a half dozen, adding them to the load in his pack.

Aisa settled on the lip of the open lid. "You're up to this task?"

Collins did not know how to answer. "I hope so."

"Zylas depends on us. On you."

Collins wondered why the parrot/woman felt a need for this awkward conversation. "I've already said I'd do it. You don't have to convince me."

Aisa s.h.i.+fted from one bird foot to the other. "I know."

An uncomfortable silence ensued, and Collins suddenly wished he had not sounded so accusatory.

The last time he had come to Barakhai, the renegades had brought him here by subterfuge and won his allegiance with half-truths. lie wished they would stop trying so hard to ascertain that he made all his own decisions, free from coercion. All choices involved at least a little duress, and he was not at all sure that, if his mission failed, he wanted full responsibility for his own death. Or worse, for Zylas'.

Aisa broke the hush. "I just want to make sure you don't commit yourself to something dangerous in ignorance."

"In this case, a certain amount of ignorance is unavoidable." Collins strapped up his pack and hefted it, testing its weight. He had to balance bringing anything he might find a use for against making a burden that might slow him in a life-or-death run for safety. He realized he could always drop it should speed became the determining factor. Can't outrun most predators anyway. He looked at Aisa again, still gripping the lid with first one claw, then the other. It suddenly occurred to him that she was not talking to rea.s.sure him, but herself. She had a dangerous mission ahead of her as well. "But I'm definitely going forward with it. If you, Ialin, and Falima can't rescue Zylas, I will."

Where Aisa's enormous black beak met the wrinkly white skin, it pulled taut, a birdie smile that compressed the fine, tiny feathers that formed the black stripes around her eyes. "I'm new to the special operations team."

Despite his own concerns, Collins had to suppress a grin. Those words sounded hilarious from the mouth of a parrot, even though he knew she had surely chosen others. The translation spell did a remarkable job with slang and jargon.

Aisa did not seem to notice Collins' lapse. "I didn't expect to get thrown into something so big so quickly. Our spies are good, but they can't know everything, everyone. Plans go awry; sometimesinformants get caught. There are gaps... " She shook her head, dislodging a feather. "I don't know if I can fake through those well enough, especially in bird form. More nervous, worse overlap."

Collins could hear the difference discomfort made in her speech even as she explained it. Some of his fellow graduate students deliberately procrastinated before a major project, claiming they performed better under pressure. Clearly, stress had the opposite effect on Aisa. He tried to put her at ease. "From what I've seen so far, you're smart and capable. Don't lose your head, and you'll do fine." He could scarcely believe he found himself in the position of senior operative. Scrawny and bookish, he had never harbored any illusions about becoming a James Bond or a Walker, Texas Ranger. With his straight B average, he was not even destined to become one of those genius scientists the evildoers kidnapped to force them to help with some nefarious plot. He stroked her just behind the nostrils. "If I can do this, you can, too."

Aisa closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the touch as much as the pep talk.

Falima approached at that moment, and Collins watched her every fluid movement. There was nothing delicate about this woman, from her broad face to her chunkily muscled limbs, yet she still managed to carry herself with remarkable grace. She paced deliberately, yet every step seemed light and buoyant. Though built more for function than appearance, her unadorned dress swirled around well-proportioned curves. She would fill a size ten better than a model's two, but she needed that extra s.p.a.ce for voluptuous b.r.e.a.s.t.s and sculpted hips that made her waist disappear. In his world, her naturally golden skin might make sun wors.h.i.+pers jealous or some doctor worry over jaundice. He loved the shape of her face, the imperfect set of her features, and the long hair, as black as ebony.

As Collins' fingers stilled on her face, Aisa opened her eyes. Without a word, she spread her wings and glided back to Ialin and Prinivere.

"I just came to say... " Falima lowered her head and kicked at a stone on the ground. "I mean we may not..." She looked to Collins to finish her point, but he could not. He truly did not know what she was trying to say.

Falima heaved a heavy sigh, then finally met Collins' gaze. Her eyes looked as untouched and beautiful as a blue-tiled pool before the swimming season, but depthless and bright. The black forelock that fell around them made an exotically stunning contrast. She was to Collins the loveliest creature on any world, and he realized without a hint of doubt that he loved her. "We're both going on... very difficult missions... and..."

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 pa.s.sed 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, andhe was not even certain that he did. But going into danger with the right att.i.tude 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 pa.s.sion. 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 gra.s.ses. 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 circ.u.mstances 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 b.u.t.tons. 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 b.u.t.tons, 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 b.u.t.ton. "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 b.u.t.tons 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 b.u.t.ton.

*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 b.u.t.ton. The tape hissed for a moment, then the b.u.t.ton 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 explodedthrough 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'.