Chapter 11
Prinivere wandered to the farthest corner of the cave to sleep while Collins discussed matters fervently with the one companion who did understand him and insisted on translating for the one who did not. Twilight faded from the opening and the cave so gradually that, even in a darkness that might have seemed solid under other circumstances, Collins found himself able to differentiate between the gray silhouettes of his companions.
“Let’s talk about those rats back at the lab.” Though redirected several times, Zylas always returned to the matter Collins now fervently wished he had never raised.
Collins sighed, certain he would have to change his major. After this day, he might never find the courage to euthanize another experimental animal. That, or fill my home with pet rats, mice, guinea pigs, and monkeys. He imagined the look of horror twisting his landlady’s meaty features; she screamed at the sight of a large spider. “They’ll be fine,” Collins insisted with a finality he hoped would satisfy his companion—this time. “They’ve got plenty of water till my preceptor gets back.” Is that today? “At most they’ll go a day without food, and their cages will stink a bit.”
Zylas’ expression remained taut.
Collins laid an arm across the albino’s shoulders. “Look, man. There’s nothing we can do about it, is there? The whole school’s getting back tomorrow. Believe me when I say every biology professor at Algary will head straight for the lab.” Where they’ll see the crappy job I did and flunk me on the spot. More concerned for his future than the temporary comfort of a bunch of laboratory rats, Collins again sought a topic switch. “So what’s the big secret about Prinivere anyway? I mean, besides the fact that she’s a woman when you had me believing she was a man.”
Zylas shrugged off Collins’ arm. “Lady Prinivere,” he corrected in a bristly voice. “And I don’t recall ever calling the lady a man.”
“Not directly.” Collins admitted. “But you did refer to her only as ‘the elder.’ Never even used a pronoun as far as I remember. Didn’t correct me when I called her ‘him’.”
“That’s you assuming, not deception.” Zylas paced to Falima and joined her on the chest.
Depends on what the definition of “is” is. Collins shook off the presidential comparison. “You can claim you didn’t lie. But not correcting an assumption you knew was false is deception.” He straddled the opposite chest, facing Zylas directly. “Are you going to tell me it’s different in your world?”
Zylas conceded with a sigh. “I’m sorry. Vernon thought that, if we never made it to the lady, any information you had that the guards might get would be . . . misleading. He’s a smart man, and it seemed safest at the time.”
Falima poked Zylas’ back, and he turned to translate.
A sensation of being watched spiraled through Collins suddenly, and he shivered, glancing toward the cave mouth. “You’ve managed to deflect my question again, I notice. What exactly—” The hair on the nape of his neck prickled. A realization of intense and imminent danger grasped his gut like an icy hand. His heart raced into wild pounding, and words caught like a sticky lump in his throat. Panic sent him lurching to his feet, and he skittered to the cave mouth before logic trickled between otherwise ravaged thoughts. What the hell?
Pressed against the stone wall, Collins glanced back into the cave. Zylas and Falima had also risen, their backs to him. Though they had not run, they did seem agitated. A dinosaurlike creature took up most of the back of the cave: long-necked and -legged, covered in greenish-black scales that seemed to glow. Plates jutted from the neck, back, and tail, which ended in a ragged scar. “Dr-dragon?” Collins stammered out the only English word that might suit this massive animal. Though he knew it must be Prinivere’s switch-form, he could not force himself to reenter the cave.
Ideas rushed back into Collins’ mind. Memory came first, of a girl he had dated in college. A fan of aliens, angels, and conspiracy theories, she had once brought him a book that “conclusively proved” the existence of dragons. For the purposes of domestic harmony, he had read it, a pseudoscientific account filled with blurry photographs, anecdotal sightings, and misconceptions a freshmen science student should see through. He had tried to argue the biological impossibility of a heavy, four-legged creature with wings. If dragons did exist, he had asserted, they would look like pteranodons. Wings had served as the forelimbs of every flying animal throughout history.
Now, Collins stared upon a creature that defied every biological tenet. Big as a school bus, it had to weigh tons. Strong hind legs ended in massive, four-clawed feet. The forelimbs had three toes, each with talons that closely resembled curved knives. Leathery appendages near the shoulders clearly represented folded wings. It bore little resemblance to the serpents of the Chinese New Year’s parades, its body blocky and its snout more like that of a Doberman. It bore none of the decorative finery, no streamers, beards, or spinners. The ears stuck up, shaped and proportioned like a horse’s, jet black in color. Eyes like emeralds lay recessed deeply into its sockets.
A voice entered Collins’ head, seeming to bypass his hearing. *I won’t hurt you. Come.*
Collins pawed at his ears, willing them to work properly; his life might depend on it. The reassurance, apparently the dragon’s, did not soothe. He found himself incapable of taking a step closer to a creature that could shred him, crush him, or bite him in half without breaking a sweat.
Zylas took several nervous steps, bowed to the dragon, then hurried to Collins. “You’re insulting Lady Prinivere,” he hissed.
In response, Collins pressed his back more tightly to the wall. Vines tickled his arms, and stone jabbed his spine. He tried to explain, “She’s a . . . she’s a . . . a dragon.”
“Yes.”
“We . . . we . . . don’t have . . . dragons . . . in my world.”
“Neither do we.”
The ludicrousness of that statement finally broke the spell. Collins turned his head slowly toward Zylas to grant him a judgmental stare. “I beg to differ.”
Zylas took one of Collins’ hands in both of his. “Except Lady Prinivere, of course. She’s the last.”
Collins looked at the hand clamped between Zylas’ and hoped the albino did not plan to try to drag him back into the cave. He wiped his other sweating palm on his britches and tried to screw up his courage.
“The others were killed off centuries ago.”
“By knights, no doubt.” Collins resorted to his usual haven, humor, to orient his failing rationality.
Zylas tugged gently at Collins. “Huh?”
“Never mind.” It seemed worse than senseless to try to explain legends at a time when reality had gone beyond them.
“It’s all right. Really. Come meet her.”
Collins looked at the dragon, still hesitating. Falima faced the dragon, clearly engaged in conversation, arms waving at intervals. If Prinivere responded, she did so without opening her mouth. “She could eat us all in the same bite.”
“Eat us?” Zylas rolled his eyes. “She’s constrained by the same laws as the rest of us. Can’t eat any meat, remember?”
“Who could stop her?” Collins muttered, but he did take a step forward. Prinivere posed no more threat to him than the guardsmen, and she might hold the only key to his escape. He managed another step.
Zylas released Collins’ hand. Falima turned, impassively watching her friends approach. As he drew closer, Collins noticed details he had missed on first inspection. The glow that outlined the dragon seemed as feeble and tattered as a dying star. Most of the claws looked jagged, broken beyond repair. Scars marred her scaly hide in several locations, the worst a mottled, irregular patch in the right chest area. She moved with a slowness that suggested long-standing fatigue. Her dragon form had clearly aged along with her human one.
*Actually, it’s my human form that aged along with the dragon form.* The words whispered into Collins’ brain, unspoken.
Collins jumped, heart racing again.
*Yes, I read minds. That’s how I know every language.*
Collins had not yet recovered enough to ask the question she had already answered. Remembering that he needed her, he forced calm. If she predicts my future thoughts, too, why bother to communicate at all? “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just told me how this whole conversation’s going to come out?”
Prinivere exhaled a loud snort that Collins interpreted as a laugh. *I don’t usually anticipate. It’s just, after a few centuries, you figure out what any human would ask. Never met one yet who didn’t wonder how I get into his or her head.*
Collins glanced at his regular companions. Zylas and Falima sat on one of the chests, whispering back and forth. He wondered how much of the conversation they could hear.
*All of it,* Prinivere said before Collins could formulate the thought into words. *But Falima doesn’t understand your side of it, and Zylas has to guess the thoughts I’m responding to.*
Zylas looked up and waved to Collins, apparently to confirm Prinivere’s explanation.
Though he knew the question impolite, Collins had to know. “So how old are you anyway?”
“—my lady,” Zylas added, teeth clenched in warning.
*It’s fine, Zylas.* Prinivere swung her long neck toward the rat/man. *In his world, they rarely use titles. He means no disrespect.* She swiveled her head back to Collins. *I’m one thousand seven hundred thirty-six years old.*
Collins blinked, for the first time glad his mind went blank. “One thousand?”
*Seven hundred thirty-six.*
“Ah,” Collins said, pinching his arm. The mild pain did not reassure him. It seemed equally possible that he had just dreamed it, too.
Zylas cut in, voice soft, words uninterpretable to Collins. If Prinivere responded, he heard none of it.
Finally, the dragon addressed Collins directly. *Come here. I’m going to attempt some magic.*
Hoping she meant the portal, Collins obeyed. He tried to look composed, but his steps turned more mincing the nearer he came to the dragon and he found himself trembling. Falima cleared her throat, and Collins dropped to a startled crouch, glancing wildly toward her. Ialin stood in human form between his other two companions.
Falima made an impatient gesture toward Prinivere. Collins followed the movement to its natural conclusion. He did not know how long it had taken him to move as far as he had. It had seemed only seconds, but Ialin had had time to switch and fully dress. Collins closed his eyes, hoping that would allow him to walk blindly into a dragon, yet its massive presence still pressed vividly against his memory. Opening his lids, he forced himself to step up to Prinivere.
She gave off a not-unpleasant odor that Collins had never smelled before. It might come from something she ate, some nearby plant or fungus, even from something trapped between her claws. But, for Collins, the musky allspice aroma would forever define dragon smell.
One foot stretched toward Collins, slowly, non-threateningly, and settled firmly on his head. At first, he felt nothing but the presence of that huge appendage, a claw dangling across his left cheek and ear and another tangling in his hair. Then, gradually, he recognized something indefinable flowing into him, like electric current without the jolt. The foot grew heavier over time, and he found himself expending increasing amounts of energy to remain standing. Finally, the strange feeling ended, replaced entirely by the full weight of a massive foot crushing him toward the ground.
Zylas, Falima, and Ialin dashed forward, hefting the dragon’s claw and shoving Collins from beneath it. The foot flopped to the cave floor, and the dragon sank to the ground. Pain ached through Collins’ neck and shoulders. As he massaged them, rolling his head, he noticed the dragon was lying still, unmoving. “Is she all right?”
Zylas rushed to Prinivere’s side.
Falima responded. “She’s very old. Even a simple spell like that one leaves her drained.”
Collins nodded, still studying the dragon. Then, realization struck, and he jerked his attention to Falima. “Hey, I understood you. I know what you said, and—”
Ialin rolled his eyes.
Not wanting to look the fool again, Collins considered. “That must be what the magic she did was all about.”
“Lucky guess,” Ialin grumbled.
“She’s sleeping,” Zylas announced. “We’ll have to stay and keep her safe until she’s strong again.”
It seemed only fair. Prinivere had exhausted herself for him, and he owed her at least that much. Nevertheless, Collins could not stay the icy seep of disappointment overtaking him. “The portal,” he said to no one in particular, now far enough beyond shock and confusion to realize that Prinivere would only have assumed he needed to communicate with the people of Barakhai if she knew she could not get him home soon.
Collins anticipated a verbal onslaught from Ialin about how he should feel grateful for what the dragon sacrificed for him, but it did not come. The hummingbird /man stood in silence, letting Zylas answer.
The albino patted one of the chests, then sat. Collins came over, taking the place beside the one person he trusted completely in this world.
Zylas stared at the ceiling for several moments, collecting his thoughts before beginning. “I’m as masuniat as they come . . .” He paused.
Collins remembered masuniat as the word for people more entrenched in their human than animal forms. He nodded his understanding.
“ . . . I don’t know a thing about magic except what the lady has told me. But—” Zylas glanced around at his companions’ expectant faces. “As I understand it, the spell she just threw is a particularly simple one. She’s old, even for a dragon; that and simple healings are the extent of her magic nowadays.” He turned the tender look of a grandson upon the sleeping creature. “I wouldn’t dare ask her to do even the spell she just cast again. Next time, it might kill her.”
“She made your translation stone,” Collins suggested.
Zylas shook his head. “She has made translation stones, but not mine and not in the last few decades. Making spells portable, casting onto rocks and crystals, takes a lot more energy than just throwing a bit of magic at someone.” He displayed the piece of quartz. “And I told you mine’s unique. Centuries old and very special. A family heirloom.”
Ialin balanced, cross-legged, on the other chest, listening. Falima sat beside Collins, opposite Zylas. Attempting to anticipate Zylas’ point, Collins considered whether or not creating a portal would require an item. He clung to the memory of Prinivere stating that she might have the power to make one.
“We already know Lady Prinivere does not have the strength to magic another stone.”
Collins could not hold back the significant query any longer. “A portal?”
Zylas bit his lip and met Collins’ gaze, clearly measuring his reaction. “Or make a portal.”
Collins felt horse-kicked. “But she said—”
Zylas raised a forestalling hand. “There is a crystal, already made, that can enhance her magic.”
Though reborn, Collins’ hope remained guarded. It seemed that every time something started going his way, something worse intervened. “Don’t tell me. It’s in the possession of an eight-headed hydra.”
“No.”
“A werewolf?”
“What?”
“A giant; the minotaur; Medusa; titans; the bogey-man; a fire-breathing, man-eating demon vampire unicorn.” Having exhausted his repertoire of monsters, Collins fell silent, hands folded across his lap. Anything they mentioned now had to sound puny in comparison.
All three regarded him with open-mouthed curiosity.
“So.” Collins broke the silence. “From who or what do we have to get this crystal thingy?”
“Um,” Zylas said, licking his lips. “We think the king has it.”
“And there’s no ‘we’ to it,” Ialin added sulkily.
Surprised he had actually gotten things close to right, Collins brought up the matter he had expected to come to light first. “Couldn’t we just ask someone with younger magic for help?”
Zylas smiled weakly. “Lady Prinivere has the youngest magic we know of.”
Shocked, Collins leaned backward. “You mean you know someone older?”
Ialin slapped his own forehead. “You numbskull! She’s the only one with magic any of us knows. She’s the last dragon. Ipso facto, the last user of magic.”
Surprised to hear Latin from his alien friends, Collins let the insult pass. He wondered what Ialin might possibly have said in Barakhain that the magic would translate into “ipso facto” rather than “therefore.” Collins went for funny. “So, in your quaint lovable way, you’re trying to tell me that only dragons have magic.”
“Exactly.” Ialin ignored the sarcasm.
“And Lady Prinivere is the last dragon. And as far as practically anyone knows, she doesn’t even exist.”
“Right,” Zylas confirmed.
That left an enormous gap in Collins’ understanding. “Then why would magic be illegal?” He patted Zylas’ pocket to indicate the translation stone. “Wouldn’t people just assume it doesn’t exist?”
This time, Falima answered. “Because of item magic, rare stuff left behind from the days when dragons were commonplace.”
“Centuries ago,” Collins remembered. “Does the king know about Lady Prinivere?”
“No,” they all chorused with a suddenness and expressions that revealed such a thing would prove catastrophic. Zylas added, “What a horrible thought.”
Certain they meant that the king would have Prinivere executed, Collins continued his questioning. “Does he know this crystal thingy is magical?”
Still wide-eyed and pursed-lipped, the others fell into an uncomfortable hush before Zylas answered.
“We don’t know.”
Collins tried to put everything together. “So, if I fetch this crystal and bring it back, Prinivere can make a portal for me?”
Nods circumnavigated the room.
Finally, something Ialin had said sank in. “What did you mean, ‘there’s no “we” to it?’ That I have to get this thing all by myself?”
Ialin flicked his head in a birdlike fashion. “You’re not as stupid as I thought.”
Collins smiled. “Thanks. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to or about me so far.” He looked accusingly at Zylas. “Let’s face it. A magic amplifier doesn’t just help me. Long after I’m gone, you can use it to make and do all kinds of things. Why wouldn’t you guys help me get it?”
Falima developed an inordinate interest in her feet. Ialin yawned, leaving only Zylas to answer. “We don’t really know what this crystal can do. It’s possible it only works one time.” He glanced at the others for help, but Falima headed across the cave to check on Prinivere and Ialin got caught up in a luxurious stretch. “But mainly, it’s because the royal chambers can only be accessed by stable people.”
Still in half-stretch, Ialin clarified. “Meaning people without a switch-form.” His tone suggested that he did not believe Collins fit the other definition of “stable.”
“We switchers would get caught for sure,” Falima added from across the room. “And killed. But you . . .”
. . . are already condemned to die? Collins believed he had uncovered the real reason, one his companions would never say aloud.
“ . . . won’t set off the security. If you did get caught, you could pass yourself off as minor nobility come to learn, to valet, or to assist,” Falima finished.
“Sure. Except I know nothing about any of those things.” Collins could not stop himself from arguing, though it would do him no good. If he wanted to go home, he had to get this crystal. He might die in the attempt, but remaining in Barakhai without the support of his friends also would result in his swift demise. He might just as well charge the archers guarding the other portal and get it over with swiftly.
Ialin addressed the spoken thought. “You don’t have to know much about nobility. Just the fact that you don’t switch should keep you safe there. Who would suspect you’re not of this world?”
Collins refused to put too much faith in that explanation. “Perhaps the royal archers guarding the portal?”
Ialin interjected, almost too quickly. “From what I heard while spying, they just know there’s something magical there that bears watching. They’re not going to let anyone near it.”
Collins tried to logically consider what the authorities in his world would do with something similar. “Until someone explores it thoroughly?”
“More likely, wall it up so no one can use it or get hurt by it. Seek a way to destroy it.”
Collins looked to Zylas, who shrugged and nodded. Though he knew American politicians and scientists would feel compelled to explore any anomaly until they gleaned every possible detail, he could understand where a civilization still in its more primitive stages might prefer avoidance to investigation. Especially a place where magic and dragons are, or at least were, real. So far, the only ones who believed he had come from another world were people who had traveled there and their closest companions. Apparently, the authorities had not figured out the purpose of the portal, though likely their study and discovery of it came as a direct result of the crime he had committed nearby.
The idea of breaking into a heavily guarded castle seemed impossible, yet Collins saw no better alternative. The archers at the first portal had shown their clear intent to kill anyone who approached it. Also, traveling back toward the town that had condemned him as a murderer and a cannibal seemed like sure suicide. Depending on the communication between areas, the royals might know nothing of his crime. If the crystal had properties beyond helping Prinivere make him a portal, so much the better. He owed his companions at least that much for risking themselves to save the life of a stranger. A stranger, Collins reminded himself, who has yet to show a suitable amount of gratitude. “Of course, I’ll fetch that crystal,” Collins promised aloud. “And I hope it works a lot more than one time. I appreciate your helping me. You guys deserve it and more.” Collins smiled at another thought. “In fact, after I’m home, I’ll see what I can find for you. Things like Zylas’ lighter that make life a bit easier.”
No real breeze blew through Prinivere’s cave, but a tangible rush of relief followed Collins’ pronouncement.
Returning from her visit to the sleeping dragon, Falima turned to practical considerations. “Of course, we’ll get you to the castle. And describe as much of the layout as we know.”
“Of course.” Now that he had so valiantly volunteered, Collins refused to consider details. So long as the break-in remained abstract, he could bask in his friends’ adulation and convince himself he would soon get home.
Zylas became a rat at midnight, his white fur easy to spot even in the dense gloom of a cave at night. He crawled off to sleep with the dragon, while Falima and Ialin discussed keeping watches. Since they made no effort to include him in their conversation, Collins stretched out on the floor near the entrance and tried to sleep.
The hard floor bit into his back and shoulders, no matter how frequently he shifted his position. The possible challenges that awaited him, alone and in strange surroundings, kept intruding on thoughts he desperately tried to keep dull and commonplace. The sheep he counted mutated to dragons. The map of his childhood home became an Escheresque maze-castle filled with weapons and monsters. Conjugating high school Spanish verbs became so simple, it could not hold his attention. He considered the reason; he had always struggled with them in the past and should only have gotten rustier over time. It’s the dragon’s spell. Understanding dawned with a suddenness that brought him fully awake again. If this thing’s long-lasting and crosses worlds, I’ve got a brilliant career as a translator.
Oddly, that thought soothed him where others had not. Now he had work to fall back on should his professors blackball him from science forever. Even if he managed to talk his way out of their wrath, having wasted millions of dollars in grants, translation could earn him the spare cash he needed to handle his student loans. If it lasts, he reminded himself before excitement ran away with him. I should be so lucky. It occurred to Collins that he had to survive Barakhai first, which brought him back to the circle of worry that had, thus far, held sleep at bay. With a sigh, Collins began the battle again.