Part 4 (1/2)

Zylas talked softly to Falima and stroked her nose. The horse pawed the ground and snorted. A large insect buzzed past Collins' face.

”Ready?”

Collins looked up, only then realizing Zylas had addressed him. The blue-white eyes lay unsettlingly upon him.

Collins' gaze s.h.i.+fted unconsciously to Falima.

”She not come,” Zylas explained, stepping around Collins and heading in the direction he had scouted.

”No need.”

Collins continued to study the horse, who had lowered her head to graze and seemed to take no notice of the humans' conversation. He hardly knew her; yet, for reasons he could not explain, he would miss her. ”Tell her I said 'good-bye.'”

”I will,” Zylas a.s.sured without looking back.

Collins turned and followed the rat/man through the brush, excitement building with every step. Soon, he would return to the mundane world of troubles that no longer seemed so significant. Staring death in the face, he might not have found courage, but he had found new perspective. Nothing less would ever seem formidable again.

The forest broke gradually to the familiar field of wildflowers and weeds. On the hill, the broken fortress looked positively welcoming. Collins raced toward it.

”Wait.” Zylas charged after his impetuous companion. ”Wait!” He dove on Collins.

Abruptly driven to the ground, breath dashed from his lungs, Collins twisted to glare at Zylas. ”What the h.e.l.l did you do that for?”

Zylas' answer was an inclination of his head.

Collins followed his companion's gesture. Just ahead, a ragged line of arrows scored the ground. They had not been there when he had started his run.

”d.a.m.n.” The expletive left Collins' mouth without intention.

Zylas seized Collins' hand and wriggled back toward the forest.

”d.a.m.n,” Collins repeated, following. ”Guards?”

”Would guess,” Zylas returned.

More attuned, Collins heard the second round of bowstrings singing, the rattle and thunk of thearrows landing. He lunged for the forest, Zylas at his side.

There, beyond range of the bowmen, they stopped to study the ruins. Collins saw only the stone building, sunlight flas.h.i.+ng from chips of quartz in the crumbling construction. ”How did you know?”

”Didn't.” Zylas also studied the ruins. ”Sense. Smell . . . guess.”

Sensed and smelled. It seemed logical to Collins that some of the animal instincts would permeate into the human phase as well. Thank G.o.d. Now relatively safe, he started to shake, terrified in a way he had not felt when the arrows directly menaced him. I almost died. Again. He looked at Zylas, skin white as paper and hair the nearly colorless blond most men loved and many women sought in a bottle. As they retreated back to Falima, he tried to lighten a mood wound as tensely as a spring. ”Got any friends who change into rhinoceroses?”

Zylas blinked. ”What?”

”Never mind.” A dinosaur or an army tank might do it.

Falima made a soft, snorting nicker, then pawed the ground.

Zylas spoke to her gently in his own language. He turned his attention back to Collins. ”We go.” He leaped onto Falima's back, sliding toward her hindquarters to make room for Collins. Collins' heart felt as if it were sinking into his toes. ”Go? But ...” But . . . what? What do I expect him to do? Clearly, approaching directly and in broad daylight could lead only to their deaths. Apparently, at midnight, Zylas would resume his rat form. Then, he could slip past the bowmen. And do what? Give them all bubonic plague? He stifled a hysterical chuckle. With a sigh of resignation, he clambered onto a rock and, from there, to Falima. The horse took off, going back the way they had come.

Chapter 4.

BENTON Collins mulled the situation over as they rode silently into a deeper part of the forest.

Trees glided past in a silken green blur, and Zylas' scouting became a remote background to Collins'

thoughts. The fluid motion of the horse also lost significance, though the growing aches in thighs, b.u.t.tocks, and groin gradually grew too prominent to ignore. His watch read almost 5:55 when they finally stopped in a clearing surrounded by scraggly junipers and scrub pines. Clouds raked across the sky, a gray accompaniment to Collins' dispirited mood. He dismounted beside Zylas. Falima lowered her head and snorted. Zylas stripped off the pack and tossed it to the ground. He unhitched the lead rope/halter from her head and let it fall.

”Now what?” Collins asked, kicking a deadfall at one edge of the camp site. Bark flew amid a spray of rotted wood. A large black beetle with angry-looking pincers scrambled from the carnage.

”Dinner?” Zylas suggested, catching the bug with a swift grab.

”Dinner,” Collins repeated. He shook his head and turned to sit on the deadfall. The scream of leg muscles changed his mind in mid-movement, and he struggled back to a stand. Pain made him irritable. ”I just lost my appet.i.te.” He wrinkled his nose at the beetle kicking madly in Zylas' grip and attempting to twist its pincers to meet the restraining fingers. ”Besides, I'm more worried about my neck than my stomach.”

Zylas stepped closer, gazing at Collins' throat. ”Hurt neck? Sorry. Me tried get rope not with-”

Collins interrupted. ”That's not what I meant. I ... if ... I have to get out of this . . . this place. My life-”

Zylas frowned and threw his hands in the air. Before he could speak, Collins caught an unexpected movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled toward it. A naked woman stood where the horse had once grazed. Black hair fell in a satin cascade that formed soft curls around ample b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Though not thin, the body looked toned and well-muscled, the curves delicate and in exquisite proportion. Pale eyes made a radiant contrast to the golden/tan skin. She said something Collins did not understand, then s.n.a.t.c.hed the beetle from Zylas, crushed it, and tossed it into her mouth.

Revulsion broke the spell. Flushed from the roots of his hair to his chin, Collins averted his gaze.

The beetle crunched between Falima's teeth, then she said something else to Zylas. He knelt beside the pack, pulled out the linen dress, a pair of something that looked like shorts, and two of the wood-and-cloth sandals. He tossed them to Falima.

Collins heard the rustle of fabric. He focused fanatically on the other man. ”Are you always . . . like that . . . when you change?”

”Like what?” Zylas looked from Falima to Collins.

Falima said something simultaneous with Collins', ”Like . . . bare. Nude. Naked.”

Zylas stuffed clothing back into the pack. ”Have to be, you think?”

Collins nodded, swallowing hard. It only made sense. He dared a peek at Falima, who returned a hard glare. She spoke to Zylas again, and he made a throwaway gesture as well as answering with words. Falima stomped a foot, horselike.

”What's wrong?” Collins asked.

Zylas looked at Falima first, urging her to answer. When she did not, Zylas tried. ”She have thing . . .

mine. Not-”

Apparently even more frustrated with Zylas' broken rendition of English than Collins, Falima interrupted. ”The reason I cannot give you your translation stone back is because some moron ...” Sheglanced pointedly at Collins, then back to Zylas. ”... kicked me and made me swallow it.”

Collins' face reddened again. ”I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”

”It all right,” Zylas soothed. ”Now both can talk and understand Ben.”