Eye of the Oracle by Bryan Davis
Chapter 10
Forbidden Fruit
Nimrod strode away, snatching a shield from another soldier as he jumped down the stairs to the courtyard. Tears welled in Mara’s eyes. The mother with the baby had fled, so at least the king wouldn’t murder that one. But would he find another? A new volley of flames struck the side of the roof, setting it on fire.
Mardon took Mara’s hand and pulled her to the side of the portico. He knelt and lowered her veil over her eyes. “Hurry back to the portal. The gatekeeper will be gone, so you shouldn’t have any trouble. Remember to get a firebrand and wave it in a circle over your head. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” He rose to his feet and nodded toward the gate. “Now make haste!”
Mara pressed her hand over her pocket to keep the Ovulum in place and ran toward the gate as fast as she could. The sun’s cruel rays stung her arms, and the gravel stabbed her feet, but her eyes felt safe behind her veil. When she reached the gate, the guard was gone, just as Mardon had predicted. Standing on tiptoes, she turned the latch’s dial through its combination of clicks and pushed open the iron door.
She found the grassy path back to the woods and gazed at her shadow as she ran. Though no one followed, she imagined a hundred other shadows closing in on hers, Nimrod and his people, bloodthirsty wolves who would gladly kill the weak and innocent.
When she passed between the two tall rocks, she found the stack of logs, but the fire had gone out. She picked up a long stick and stared at its charred, smoking end. What now?
She dug into her pocket and caressed the egg. Would it know what to do? If it spoke for a god, it would have to. But would it speak without Nimrod or Mardon around?
She pulled out the egg and showed the stick to it. “I need fire to go back home. What do I do?”
The eye appeared again in a soft crimson hue. Its voice was gentle, and it spoke without rhyme or verse. “You are an oracle of fire. Stand in the circle and call for flames. They will come to you.” The eye then quickly faded away.
Mara squinted at the glassy shell, now dark and lifeless. “An oracle of fire? What’s that?”
The Ovulum said nothing.
“How do I call for flames?”
Again, no answer.
She shrugged her shoulders and returned the Ovulum to her pocket, then stepped into the center of the portal circle. “Okay,” she said, holding the stick high. “Here goes.”
Closing her eyes, Mara spoke into the air. “Flames, come to my firebrand!” She opened her eyes again. Feeling a gust of wind and the sudden coolness of a mammoth shadow, she looked up. A big red dragon swooped low, its wings fanning a buffeting breeze that whipped her dress against her legs. She ducked her head, but it didn’t attack. It just turned and headed toward the tower. She mopped her brow with her veil. Had the dragon seen her? Would it come back?
She brought down the stick. The end was ablaze! Had the dragon breathed fire on her stick? She pulled up her veil and searched the skies. Several dragons circled the tower’s midsection, blasting it with torrents of fire. Much of the building had been set aflame, and the wind from the dragons’ orbit began spinning the fire into a flaming vortex, a blazing tornado that wrapped the tower in a mantle of orange.
The tower sank heavily, a third of it dropping below the ground. As the upper portion continued to burn, one of the dragons faltered. Its wings flapped weakly, and it fell to the ground. The flaming tower followed, first leaning, then toppling straight toward Mara.
She raised the stick and waved it in quick circles. Instantly, a spinning curtain of light surrounded her another tornado, but this one of pure green radiance. Her mind spun with it, and she felt a falling sensation, like sliding down a feeder spring into Lucifer’s Pool. Seconds later, the falling stopped and the cavern appeared, still shaded in green and magnified a dozen times. She took a long step and turned back toward the column of light, the portal Morgan had used to send her to the upper lands. The bright shaft flickered, then faded to a weak glow.
Her eyesight returned to normal. The cave was almost completely dark dismal and lonely. She tore the coif from her head and threw it to the stone floor, then dropped to her knees and cried. As her tears flowed, images of the glorious tower passed through her mind. She wondered at all the scrolls that must have filled the shelves of the museum histories, genealogies, scientific journals, technical drawings but now they all burned in the dragons’ flames. Not only that, her visit to the upper world was a fiasco, and Nimrod and Mardon probably blamed her for the collapse of the greatest creation mankind had ever seen. Now she would probably never get to go back, never get to leave the darkness, the torture, the loneliness of the dismal caverns. And, really, it was all because of the dragons.
She pounded her fist on the floor. “Dragons!” she yelled. “Curse those dragons! May they all die in their own fire!”
As she continued weeping, a gentle voice drifted by her ear. “You have learned much, haven’t you Mara?”
Mara leaped to her feet and spun around. A dark silhouette loomed, casting its shadow over most of the chamber. Morgan!
Makaidos poured a torrent of fire into the spinning column of flames, beating his wings to fan the cyclone as he wheeled around it in a tight orbit. Shutting off his fiery jets for a moment, he glanced back at a smaller, trailing dragon. “Aim lower, Roxil! The fire feeds upward on its own!”
Roxil blasted a volley of flames at a gap in the twisting inferno, igniting a pair of soldiers with arrows fixed on bows. Another soldier, standing on a staircase above the other two, threw a spear. With a quick reach, Roxil snatched the spear right out of the air with her claws and slung it back at its owner.
“My daughter, the warrior!” Makaidos yelled. A glimmer near the base of the tower caught his eye, and a sense of danger pulsed through his body. Feeling weaker, he pulled away from the doomed tower. It had already sunk to about two-thirds of its original height, and since the base had resettled at an angle, the whole structure leaned awkwardly. “Come, Roxil!” he shouted. “We are done here!”
Roxil’s wings faltered, and she began sinking toward the ground. Makaidos banked hard and dove toward her. As he neared the tower’s foundation, he noticed a man raising something shiny in his hand. Danger once again inflamed his senses. Feeling weaker by the second, he flew under Roxil and pushed up against her body, matching the beating of his wings with hers as he barked out a stroke rhythm. “Up! Down! Up! Down!”
Flying more steadily, but still descending, the two dragons glided away from the tower toward an open farm. Crash-landing in a vineyard, they tumbled and slid to a halt, plowing a deep furrow and squishing hundreds of ripe grapes. Makaidos scrambled upright and helped Roxil to her haunches. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Roxil’s head wagged back and forth. “I am dizzy. Something made me ill.”
“I felt it, too.” He gazed back at the tower. As the flames tightened around the huge ziggurat, the remaining dragons continued fanning it toward the direction it leaned. Finally, the entire structure toppled with a thunderous crash, sending a tremor that shook the ground under their claws.
Roxil heaved a tired sigh. “We did it!”
“Yes, we did.” Makaidos kept his eyes on the sky. A dragon had broken off from the troop and was heading their way. “Do you recognize him?” he asked.
Roxil angled her head toward the gliding figure. “No, and I sense something odd about him. Is it danger?”
“It is similar to danger. I am not sure what it is.”
The dragon landed with a soft touch, following the dredged path the other two dragons had plowed. His powerful red wings fanned a brisk wind in their faces, forcing Makaidos to blink. When his vision cleared, he gazed at the familiar face. He backed away a step, unwilling to believe what his eyes were telling him. He sputtered a drizzle of fire as he spoke. “Fa . . . Father?”
The dragon dipped his head. “I am glad you recognize me, Makaidos. It has been many years
Makaidos took another step back. “How can you know about Hilidan? I have not mentioned his name to anyone since the day of the flood.”
“Because I was there . . . Son.”
“How did you survive? And why have you waited so long to show yourself?”
“It is a long story, but for now, we must be reacquainted.” Arramos bowed toward Roxil. “I want to get to know my descendants.”
Roxil bowed in return. “I am glad to meet you, Father Arramos.”
Makaidos shook his head. “This cannot be. The Maker told Master Noah that every creature not aboard the ark was killed. The Maker is never wrong.”
“Of course the Maker is never wrong, but Master Noah has made his share of mistakes. I am sure you have heard the gossip that Ham spread about his drunken exposure.”
Makaidos winced. “I have heard.”
“And you must admit that evidence of my death is sorely lacking, for I am standing here right now.”
Roxil flapped her wings, pushing her body toward Arramos. She intertwined her neck with his and looked back at Makaidos. “He has to be your father. I no longer feel any danger at all.”
“I do.” Makaidos took yet another step back. “More than ever.”
Arramos pulled away from Roxil and stretched his neck, bringing his head close to Makaidos. “My son, I fought alongside you against the tower. I scorched King Nimrod while he held the dragon’s bane and weakened your daughter. If I had not, you would both have fallen to the spearmen.”
“Dragon’s bane? What is that?”
“A gem that some call a candlestone. It weakens dragons by absorbing their light energy.”
Makaidos couldn’t maintain eye contact. He gazed toward the mountains. “Shem and Japheth told me you were on Nimrod’s side, one of his enforcers.”
“I was infiltrating as a spy. The sons of Noah would not have learned who captured the girl from their village if I had not leaked the information to them.”
Roxil thumped her tail on the ground. “Father! Why are you being so rude? He is obviously who he says he is.”
“He certainly appears to be, but I sense great danger. The Maker has given me a gift that I cannot ignore, and I trust him and Master Noah before this evidence that I cannot yet fully comprehend.”
Arramos lowered his voice. “Makaidos, it is important that I reestablish my leadership over our family. You know this to be true. Your sons who flew with me around the tower have agreed to join in our battle against humankind.”
“But you always taught me that we were created to serve the sons of Adam.”
“I did.” Arramos’s eyes flashed brighter than ever, but he lowered his voice even further, growling under his breath. “Time after time men have spat in the face of the Maker. Even after a cleansing flood, they have corrupted themselves again. Building a tower of pride, they have driven a fist into the Maker’s nose. The time has come for dragons to take their place as rulers of the planet.”
“I . . . I cannot believe what I am hearing. There is too much to think about. The danger I feel is overwhelming.”
“You have already lost Goliath.” Arramos waved a wing at Roxil. “Will you lose the rest of your family because of a feeling you get when I am near? Did I not teach you logic? Will you defy all reason because of your faith in a man who drinks himself to the point of shame? Where is your discernment?”
Makaidos glanced all around. As a cloud of smoke from the burning tower began obscuring the sun, a shadow fell across his eyes. “A shroud of darkness surrounds me. It would be foolish to deny what I have learned in the light. That is the chief rule of discernment.”
“The time of darkness has ended my son. You may follow me if you wish, but do not make yourself an enemy.” With a great flap of his wings, Arramos lifted into the sky and sailed toward the fallen tower.
Roxil glared at Makaidos, thumping her tail even harder. “Father! Do not be a fool! Mankind is not worth losing your own father.”
Makaidos roared. “Silence! You have no idea what you are saying. You have not seen what I have seen through the centuries!”
Roxil scowled. “Living longer does not always make a dragon wiser.”
Makaidos lifted his tail, ready to strike, but he let it fall. His daughter had long since passed the stage of youngling discipline. He shuffled closer to her. “Roxil, what has happened to you? You have never been so disrespectful toward me.”
“I have always respected you, even when I thought your patience with the foolishness of men made you appear to be a fool yourself. Respect is why I held back my opinions for so long, but now I am of age to make my own choices.” Roxil turned her head toward the sky. “Look, Father. My brothers . . . your sons . . . are following Arramos toward the mountains. Will you join us?”
“Us? You cannot be serious!”
“I am.” Roxil stretched out her wings. “No sensible dragon would hang her life on the words of a drunken ark builder.”
Makaidos firmed his jaw. “Your mother will be on my side.”
“She is too weak to oppose you. She has always been weak.”
Makaidos snorted a stream of fire at the ground near Roxil’s tail. “You have no idea what you are saying! Your mother is a great warrior. Do not cast insults simply because you are too young to have seen her in action! She has spent the last century populating the world with dragons and raising up a new brood of warriors!”
Roxil flapped her wings and lifted slowly into the sky. She circled him once and dipped her head in a solemn bow. “Good-bye, Father.”
A tear dripped from Makaidos’s eye and fell to the ground. Roxil strayed from her path for a moment before zooming toward the other dragons as they disappeared in the growing haze.
Clasping her hand on her chest, Mara breathed a sigh. “You startled me.”
Sympathy tinged Morgan’s voice. “I apologize, but I wanted to comfort you.”
Mara drooped her head. “How can I be comforted? My first visit to the land above was a disaster! King Nimrod got so mad at me, I thought he would kill me, and he kept talking about needing blood, so it seemed for a minute like he was going to sacrifice a baby. But then dragons came and destroyed the tower, and everything in it burned. Mardon said all the world’s knowledge lay in the first floor, and now it’s gone forever!”
Morgan caressed her cheek. “You have had a frightful experience, but not all is lost.” She curled her finger. “Come with me.”
Morgan walked toward a narrow opening at the side of the cavern opposite the one they had entered. Mara rose slowly, and, as she followed, Morgan spoke in haunting tones. “I know a great disaster has befallen the upper world. Tell me, Mara, what did you see?”
As they passed into the tunnel, darkness enfolded them. Mara slowed, but the floor seemed smooth enough. “I saw dragons. Lots of them. And they breathed fire at the tower until it burned.”
“I see.” Now in total darkness, Morgan’s voice sounded like a sad song, like the dirge Naamah taught the girls to sing when one of them died in the chasm. “Did the fire spin like a whirlpool as it consumed Nimrod’s tower?”
“It did! How did you guess?”
“And did the tower sink into the ground like a rock in a pool?”
“Part of it sank, but more than half of it started tipping over. It was so tall, I was afraid it would fall on me, so I went through the portal before it fell.” A strange tingle crawled along Mara’s skin. “How did you know?”
The tunnel brightened slightly, enough for her to see Morgan’s eyes directly in front of her own. Sudden fear froze Mara in place. She held her breath, unable to move a muscle.
Morgan’s face showed no emotion. “You fancy yourself a scientist, a lover of knowledge. Do you not?
Mara pressed her lips together and gave her a quick nod.
Morgan swept her arm toward the source of light, another cavern that lay just beyond the end of the tunnel. “Then allow me to show you how I knew.” She strode into the cavern, her black dress flowing in a swirling draft.
Feeling surged back into Mara’s legs, and she rushed to catch up. When she entered the cavern, she stopped and leaned back, barely able to take in the amazing sights. The ceiling reached higher than any of the trees in the upper world, so high that she could see only a vague grayness in the upper reaches. Spinning to the side, she located the source of light, a blazing column that stretched to the ceiling’s highest point. The energy in the column rotated, casting off blue eddies of light that twirled in dancing pirouettes until they fizzled into nothingness.
Morgan stood at the center of the cavern next to a massive circular building that stretched from one side of the seemingly endless chamber to the other. A set of broken, charred doors lay open, leading to the building’s anteroom. A ring of statues surrounded something in the center, their arms raised as if saluting it with hailing praises.
Mara gasped. “The . . . the tower?”
Morgan pushed on one of the doors. It toppled over, smashing to the floor at her feet. She jumped back and waved away the dust, coughing. “What’s left of it.”
Mara ran to the doorway and peered into the anteroom. Now close enough to the statues, she finally recognized what the robed men and women were saluting. “A tree?”
Morgan strutted inside and motioned for Mara to follow. “Yes, a very special tree. I’m sure you read about it in Mardon’s library. Adam and Eve first discovered wisdom by eating its fruit.”
“I did read about it, but I thought it was destroyed in the flood.”
“It was, but I am . . .” Morgan covered her mouth and coughed again. “Excuse me. I mean, one of my dear old friends is a seed collector, and she saved a few seeds from the fruit. I planted them, and this tree was the only one that sprouted.”