Mickey Reichert: The lost Dragons of Barakhai

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' heady 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, 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."

"Even if it's immediately?"

Collins saw no downside. He could still reconsider on the walk to the portal; and, even once there, it was not an irreversible choice. It seemed safer to discuss any matter with a horse somewhere other than the middle of campus.

"Why don't you pack a few things," Zylas said. "Just in case."

It was a reasonable suggestion, though it made Collins wary. "I can leave Barakhai any time? Even immediately?"

Zylas opened his lids wider, making his fiery eyes seem to bulge from their pink-rimmed sockets. "You're repeating yourself."

"It's called reassuring." Collins crinkled his nose. "And don't do that eye thing. It's freakish."

"Thanks." Zylas restored his features to normal. "I love it when my friends call my looks freakish."

Collins dodged the all-too-wide opening. The "eye thing" barely touched the "transforming-into-animals thing." Without another word, he scooped up his backpack from the workstation chair and dumped its contents onto the bed. Books, notebooks, and pens tumbled out, along with an assortment of pipettes, a compartmentalized container filled with plastic balls and stems for making models of molecules, and sundry other small accessories. He tossed two packs of TGI Friday's matches back inside, added a mini mag light, his new multitool, three T-shirts, four pairs of underwear, and two pairs of blue jeans. He dashed into the bathroom, Korfius trotting along at his heels. Opening the medicine chest, he snatched up a bottle of Turns and another of Tylenol, dropping them into the sink. He tossed in a bar of soap, a toothbrush, a razor, a plastic bottle of shampoo, deodorant, and toothpaste. Seizing the hand towel, he folded all of his gathered things into it, bundled it up, and headed from the room. As a last thought, he scooped up a roll of toilet paper. Dashing back to the bedroom, he unceremoniously dumped it all inside his backpack.

"All right-" Collins started, then stopped, thinking of another potentially useful item. He jerked open his desk drawer to reveal his new personal organizer, a programmable calculator, a mini tape recorder, fold-up binoculars, and his working snacks. He had gone after the binoculars but grabbed the recorder, three Snickers bars, a handful of beef jerky, and an open bag of dog biscuits, too. He was just adding these to his now bulging backpack, when a pounding knock at the door startled him. Collins' mind had already returned to the nearly inscrutable world of his companions, with its weird violations of physical law and its strict and cruel legalities and punishments. He forced his muscles to uncoil, his breathing to slow. The worst thing he faced here was expulsion or bankruptcy, a far cry from hanging.