The Lost Dragons of Barakhai Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  An enormous object blotted out the moonlight.

  Instinctively, Collins ducked and swung his attention upward. A huge, shadowy figure filled the sky. Terror surged through him, and the urge to flee became an all encompassing necessity. He ran mindlessly, no longer worrying about the menace of the guards, hearing their screams and pounding footsteps meld with the more familiar screech of his beeper. Something heavy cut the air above his head. Without warning, a whirlwind sucked him off his feet, sending him spiraling to the ground. He struck a stone with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs, then found himself tumbling down a steep, grassy hill without the barest sense of control. The world spun past in a dizzying array of greens and browns. Something leathery slapped his ear, pounding pain through his head. Then a calm voice touched his mind. *Be still.*

  Be sure to read these other extraordinary

  DAW Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels by

  MICKEY ZUCKER REICHERT

  FLIGHTLESS FALCON

  THE LEGEND OF NIGHTFALL

  SPIRIT FOX

  (with Jennifer Wingert)

  The Books of Barakhai:

  THE BEASTS OF BARAKHAI

  THE LOST DRAGONS OF BARAKHAI

  The Renshai Trilogy:

  THE LAST OF THE RENSHAI

  THE WESTERN WIZARD

  CHILD OF THUNDER

  The Renshai Chronicles:

  BEYOND RAGNAROK

  PRINCE OF DEMONS

  THE CHILDREN OF WRATH

  The Bifrost Guardians Omnibus Editions

  Volume I:

  GODSLAYER

  SHADOW CLIMBER

  DRAGONRANK MASTER

  Volume II:

  SHADOW’S REALM

  BY CHAOS CURSED

  Copyright © 2002 by Miriam S. Zucker.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-16591-1

  All Rights Reserved.

  DAW Book Collectors No. 1230.

  DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  First Paperback Printing, August 2003

  DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

  U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

  —MARCA REGISTRADA

  HECHO EN U.S.A.

  S.A.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To Sheila Gilbert

  the other half of the equation.

  May she inspire, assist, and torture writers

  (including me)

  for many many many more decades.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank the following:

  Mark Moore, the PenDragons,

  Kevin & Bambi VanDyne,

  Sandra & Arthur Zucker,

  Jackie, Koby, and Carly,

  Spoon Branch mules

  and the following:

  Seeker, Aisa, Gryphon, Fluffy, Tigger, Mr.

  Kwik, Kelka, Haakon, Dusty, Paladin,

  Masai, Ace, Fawn, Cassius, Kimba, Bucky,

  McKinley, Modi, Raven, Sankie, Rocky,

  Doodle and several others who provided

  invaluable research.

  Chapter 1

  WILD barking awakened Benton Collins, and he sprang from his bed without thinking. The top sheet and blanket entangled his legs, sending him sprawling, heart pounding, on the floor. Whining frantically, Korfius thrust a wet nose into his face.

  Collins pushed the dog away. He lived in graduate student housing, which normally did not allow pets; however, Korfius was considered a hero, for bringing the help that saved Collins’ life. The Algary College staff and his neighbors politely looked the other way, treating Korfius like a seeing eye dog and not throwing him up as an example whenever their own better-concealed cats, fish, and birds got evicted.

  “Quiet, Korfius,” Collins demanded, sitting on the bed and extricating himself from the awkward, encumbering twist of coverings. He groped for his glasses on the standard issue dresser, clamped a hand over one wire temple piece, and put them in place on his nose one-handed. “You’ll wear out your welcome barking at . . .” Collins glanced at the digital clock at his workstation. “. . . 3:16 A.M.!” He ran a hand through sleep-tousled, dark brown hair and groaned. “What the hell are you doing up at 3:16 AM?”

  Korfius nuzzled Collins, then ran toward the window, planted his forepaws on the sill, and bounced back. In his excitement, he leaped on Collins’ bed, over him, and back to the window again. Collins watched the gangly legs sail past, the ears flying, the tongue lolling, the short coat an uneven patchwork of brown and white. Though fourteen years old, the half-grown hound aged in human, not dog, years and had the exuberance of a six-month-old puppy. Collins had acquired Korfius in Barakhai, a world he had entered accidentally by chasing a white rat through the hallways of Daubert Laboratories. There, he had discovered people who spent half or more of their lives as various animals. The few who had come to his world remained in animal form throughout their visits, and Korfius had chosen to stay because he liked Collins and preferred being a full-time dog.

  Over the last year and a half, Collins had grown as fond of Korfius as the dog had of him, though he still found their association a bit uneasy. He used leashes and collars only when absolutely necessary and shared his own food because it seemed vulgar to feed a child Puppy Chow. Dressed only in his sleeping boxers and glasses, Collins headed toward the window. A cool summer breeze chilled his torso.

  Something thumped onto Collins’ shoulder. He staggered backward with a savage gasp, smacking the object with the back of one hand. It felt warm and solid, furry against his skin, and it tumbled to the bed. A shiver coiled through Collins, and he whirled to look. A white rat braced itself on the disheveled pile of sheet and blanket, whiskers twitching madly.

  Collins stifled a scream, then logic took over. It can’t be. Can it?

  Korfius bounded onto the bed, sending the rat flying. It scrambled onto Collins’ pillow.

  “Hey!” Collins said.

  The rat cocked its head. “Hey, yourself. What kind of greeting is slapping me across the room?”

  It IS Zylas. Glad to see his old friend again, Collins replied in kind, “The normal reaction to being attacked by a rat. What would you do if something jumped on your shoulder?”

  Zylas twisted his head to look over the snowy fur on the back of his neck. “Anything small enough to alight on my shoulder would have to be an insect, so I guess I’d . . . I’d eat it.”

  Still grossed out by one of the Barakhains’ main sources of protein, Collins made a noise of revulsion. “You’d eat it, huh?” He pinned the rat with a searching stare. “So you got off easy.” He avoided the image of dining on raw, un-skinned rat meat, not wishing to arouse a more painful memory. When he had first arrived in Barakhai, he had roasted and eaten a rabbit. Only when the villagers attempted to hang him for
murder and cannibalism did he discover the dual nature of its citizenry. Every human an animal, and every animal a human. Collins did not forget the exception to the rule. Except fish, which they eat freely and don’t consider animal.

  “Good point.” Zylas paused to give Korfius a warning nip on the jowl that sent the dog into barking retreat. One hind foot slipped over the edge, and the dog flopped to the floor. “Quiet, Korfius. I’m glad to see you, too, but we can say ‘hello’ without the ear-shattering racket.”

  The dog cocked his head, tail waving, chin resting on the bed. Usually, the animals of Barakhai could not communicate much better than the ones in Collins’ own world, but a crystal that Zylas always carried allowed him to speak even with other creatures.

  Crystal. Where is the crystal? A million questions came to Collins’ mind at once. Before he had left Barakhai, nearly dead from a beating and a fall, he had captured another crystal, one that enhanced magic, from Barakhai’s king and delivered it to one of Zylas’ renegades. With the help of the last dragon, the only beings who could use magic, the renegades had planned to remove the curse that forced them to cycle through an animal form each day. Collins wondered about the friends he had made in that strange Otherworld called Barakhai. Did the crystal ever reach Prinivere, that ancient, feeble dragon who was also a distant ancestor of Zylas’? Did it enhance the little bit of magic she could still manage? Clearly, she had not actually lifted the curse, or Zylas would have come to Collins in man form. Unlike Korfius, he preferred being human.

  Before Collins could frame the first question, a trumpeting whinny froze him in place. He forced himself to turn toward the window, where a familiar fuzzy head peered in at them. A black forelock lay tousled over a wide, golden nose, and black ears formed excited, pricked-forward triangles. The mare tipped her head to regard them all through one shockingly blue eye.

  Startled at finding a horse in the quadrangle, Collins gasped. “What the hell did you bring her for?” Despite his accusatory question, Collins found himself smiling at Falima. He had thought of her often in the year since he had last seen her. It had taken her a long time to forgive his crimes of ignorance; but, once she had, he found her a brave and loyal ally. He stroked the silky nose and scratched behind her ears. She rested her chin on the sill, sighing heavily.

  “Bring her?” Zylas paced a circle on Collins’ pillow. “Do you think I could stop her?”

  Collins could not answer. He knew the one-way portal allowed anyone to pass from his world to theirs, but only animals could move in the opposite direction. He had no idea whether they had to be in beast shape when they approached the portal or whether the simple act of passing through it made the change for them. In Barakhai, they had essentially no control over the switch. It happened at the same time each and every day: Zylas at the equivalent of noon and midnight, Falima at 6. Presumably, Zylas could have chosen a time when he held rat form and Falima human to sneak through the portal; but that would prove difficult. While a human, Falima would have the mental and physical where-withal to prevent Zylas’ leaving without her. While a horse, she only needed to follow him. And, despite a few brief visits to Collins’ world in the past, Zylas might not realize the problems inherent in bringing a full-grown horse into an urban setting. Where he came from, all horses served as guards and lived in the most civilized areas.

  Unconsciously, Collins adopted the high-pitched, singsong speech pattern most adults use when speaking to babies and animals. “Can you talk in animal form now, too?”

  Zylas answered for Falima. “Not yet. Overlap’s not good enough.”

  Collins remembered that “overlap” referred to the ability to recall animal times in human form and vice versa. Zylas, he knew, had what the old dragon called near-perfect overlap.

  Zylas paced the mattress, and Korfius’ eyes followed his every movement. “That crystal you liberated allowed Prinivere to make more translation stones, but Falima tends to drop hers when she lapses into . . . full horsiness.”

  Collins yawned, suddenly remembering what time it was. “It’s great to see you guys, but it’s the middle of the night, and I’ve got classes in the morning. Why don’t we all get some sleep and . . .” The ridiculousness of his own suggestion penetrated his sleep-fogged brain before he could even get a reply. “But not in the quad. A horse . . . would be noticed.” And I’ll get thrown out on my ear. This definitely breaks my lease.

  “Indeed.” Zylas bowed his ratty head. “That’s why we need to talk in Barakhai. Come with me, please.”

  “Barakhai!” Collins found himself shouting and lowered his voice. “I can’t go back there.” He still bore the scars of two falls: the first down the kingdom steps with soldiers and servants stabbing and beating at him, the second a desperate leap from the parapets. Collins had tossed torches at the king’s most faithful, including Carrie Quinton, an adviser from his own world, and the king’s brother. It seemed impossible that he would not get arrested the moment he set foot in Barakhai, sentenced to another hanging . . . or worse. Worse? What could be worse than strangling to death? It surprised Collins just how swiftly the answer came to his mind. The possibilities for a slow, agonizing death seemed infinite.

  Zylas balanced on his back paws. “You have to, Ben. We need you.”

  Collins did not agree. He studied Falima, suddenly wishing he had worn more to bed. The physical therapy from his injuries, and the healthy habits it started, left him with some muscular definition to a once too-skinny chest. He had grown a few more chest hairs, bringing his total to ten; and he had honed his arms and legs so he no longer resembled a scarecrow. Collins found himself hoping Falima had noticed the positive changes that had occurred over the past year. “I’d feel a lot better if you asked me. This time.” He made a direct and scathing reference to Zylas’ previously luring him into Barakhai and danger without giving Collins the least hint of what he was about to get involved.

  Zylas’ beady red eyes turned liquid. He clamped his front paws together and lowered his head. “Please?”

  “No.”

  Zylas’ pointy face jerked up.

  Collins suddenly felt foolish and cruel. It seemed unreasonable to request politeness and consideration, then turn it down outright. “I’m sorry. I have a life here. In Barakhai, I’m a dead man.”

  Zylas stared, and his eyes turned steely. “At least . . . you have a life somewhere.” He turned with an unratlike air of irritation and dignity. “I thought you’d just hear us out. I thought you might care, be curious. Or, that you might want a chance to talk to Korfius again.”

  Collins felt all of those things; but the last, strangely, seemed the most compelling reason of all. He did want to know if Korfius was satisfied with this way of life, if he could do anything to make the dog/boy more comfortable, if Korfius might not prefer his dual life in Barakhai. Collins had made a lifelong commitment to the dog, since Korfius would probably outlive him. If Zylas and Falima had come at a more decent hour, he might be able to think more clearly. “We can’t talk here,” Collins reasoned aloud. “You . . . maybe, okay. But a horse? No, that won’t go unnoticed.” Now suspicious, he wondered if Falima had come simply to force the issue. Without her, Zylas could have safely stayed and chatted.

  Zylas turned a circle, clearly reading Collins’ wavering. “Come with us. We can talk at the entrance, or in a safe house, if you wish. We can always send you right back.”

  Sensing another trap, Collins found the problem. “It’s a one-way door. Once I go through, I can’t get home.”

  “Not the same way,” Zylas admitted. “But Prinivere now has enough power to send you back.”

  Collins still hesitated, unsure.

  “She got you back last time, didn’t she?”

  Collins had to admit that she had. Otherwise, he would have died of his wounds in Barakhai, not recovered in Algary’s Intensive Care Unit. “Pretty much in pieces.”

  Zylas could not argue the point and, to his credit, did not try. “You can leave
whenever you want. Whenever you decide.”

  Collins set his jaw, considering despite his better judgment. He had finally got himself on the right track. It had taken him months to recover enough to return to school full-time. He had won back his laboratory assistanceship and found a way to make money using the translation skills Prinivere had magically bestowed upon him to allow communication with the humans of Barakhai. The doctors could not explain how a head wound could make a biology graduate student who had struggled through high school Spanish speak every language they could throw at him fluently, but the hospital appreciated his ability to bridge the gap between explanation and understanding for their non-English-speaking patients. Prinivere’s spell did not extend to the written word, however, so they could not simply ask him to translate common descriptions and treatments into brochures. He had paid off most of his student loans, the semester’s tuition, maintained his quarters and his dog, and still had some pocket money for campus movies, pizza, and an occasional, although all thus far unsatisfying, date.

  Falima thrust her muzzle back through the window to whicker a low “come on.” Zylas gave Collins a pleading look. Korfius stood by the bed, tail wagging.

  Collins heaved a sigh. “If I wasn’t out-of-my-mind exhausted, I’d never even consider this.” He gave Zylas a steady scrutiny that he hoped looked rock hard. “I get to decide when I leave Barakhai?”

  Zylas waved a paw. “You get to decide.”