Eye of the Oracle by Bryan Davis
Merlin squeezed Excalibur’s hilt but kept it in its sheath. “Speak quickly. I am in no mood to listen to your idiotic boasts.”
Devin kicked the other sword toward Palin. “When we sneaked up to the cave, we overheard Goliath and his mate conspiring with Makaidos. They planned to kill the king and blame it on our allies. Inciting war, they said, would ensure more human deaths and distract us from hunting dragons.” He nodded toward his squire who now stood next to him, his sword raised in a similar defensive posture. “Palin and I had to rescue the king from their clutches.”
“Your story smells like a nest of rats,” Merlin said. “The dragons would have sensed your approach.”
“Who can say what they sensed?” Devin waved his arm toward the cave entrance. “The carcasses are in there, so feel free to judge for yourselves. Unfortunately, Goliath got away. When faced with two warriors in closed quarters, he showed his true cowardly stripes and fled. But he cannot hide forever. Even if I do it with my last dying breath, someday I will slaughter that beast, just as Palin and I killed his mate and his father, Makaidos.”
Heat surged into Merlin’s cheeks. “You killed the king of the dragons?” He yanked out Excalibur, and the beam shot into the sky.
Palin stumbled backwards, his eyes wide, but Devin held his ground. “Makaidos was a traitor!” Devin shouted, a vein bulging at the side of his head. “Palin is my witness. We had to rescue our king!”
“Rescue me?” Arthur pushed himself up to a sitting position. “What need have I to be rescued?”
Devin dropped to his knees next to Arthur. “Your servants, Palin and I, rescued you from the clutches of three dragons, Your Majesty.”
Clefspeare roared. “You are a liar! My grandfather would never harm the human king!”
“But what of your father?” Devin helped Arthur to his feet, keeping his stare fixed on the dragon. “Will the son of Goliath defend him as well?”
“Defend him?” Clefspeare roared. “To the likes of you? You killed my mother and my grandfather. I should roast you and your little pageboy where you stand.”
“Perhaps not to me,” Devin said, nodding toward Arthur, “but I think the king would like to hear why he was unconscious in the cave of Makaidos.”
Arthur massaged the back of his head. “Yes, I would like to know. I remember nothing after my sword flashed.”
Merlin shoved Excalibur back into its sheath, extinguishing its light. “Goliath captured you and threatened to kill you. As a ransom, he demanded that Makaidos give up his war alliance with humans. Makaidos agreed and flew to his cave to meet Goliath and restore you to us.”
Devin pointed his sword at Clefspeare. “An obvious excuse to join forces against us in war. Makaidos saves face while plotting our demise in the recesses of his cave. I heard the conspiracy with my own ears.”
Palin waved his sword. “I heard it as well, exactly as Sir Devin has described.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, “I cannot ignore two eyewitnesses. This is a most chilling accusation.”
“Your two witnesses are a lying snake and a conniving parrot.” Merlin strode in the direction of the cave, shouting over his shoulder. “I will see the carnage for myself. Clefspeare, I doubt that these two cowards would be brave enough to attack you in the light, so please stay here and represent my interests.”
“Gladly, Master Merlin.”
Merlin girded his robe and hustled down the muddy path. Within a few minutes, he arrived at the cave’s yawning entrance. In the dim recesses, two nebulous lumps took shape, quiet shadows that rose from the floor in uneven mounds. Stepping lightly on the pebble-strewn threshold, he avoided streams of dark blood trickling around his shoes and climbed to higher ground inside. As his eyes adjusted, the dusky outlines became clear, two dragons, his old friend Makaidos with his wing draped over his beloved daughter Roxil.
Merlin fell to his knees and pressed his hand against his stomach. As bitter nausea boiled within, tears flowed and dripped to the ground. Rocking back and forth through convulsive sobs, he grabbed two handfuls of pebbles and squeezed them in his shaking fists. “God!” he cried out. “O God, my Father! Why must the valiant bleed while the devious plot treachery against the innocent? Why must the noble among us lie silent in a bed of blood while murderers whisper treachery and death into the ears of a king?” He threw the pebbles against the wall and rose slowly to his feet, lifting his head and spreading out his arms. “But I cannot see what you see. I see only shadows, while you see everything unveiled. Grant me hope in these dark days, for I feel the dread of evil coming upon this land like a swarm of locusts, yet I know that you can blow a horde of wickedness out to sea with a single breath. Let me feel a hint of that breath while I await the deliverance you always bring to those who follow your path.”
As he lowered his head, a glint of light caught his eye, a red flash near Makaidos’s body. He walked in that direction, again high-stepping over bloody streams. Stooping next to the tiny red strobe, he touched it with his finger. “A gemstone?” he murmured. He lifted the knuckle-sized stone, mesmerized by its hypnotic oscillation between two shades of red light. He curled his fingers around it. “This must be the rubellite he kept between his scales. It probably popped out when Devin killed him.”
He crawled over Makaidos’s body and lifted his wing off Roxil, then, pushing with his feet on Roxil and his back against Makaidos, he rolled her to her side. After wiping the blood away from her belly with the hem of his robe, he searched her cold exterior shell. There it was. A pulsing red gem lodged between two scales.
Taking a deep breath, he pried the tiny stone free and gently placed it in his left pocket while sliding Makaidos’s gem into his right. Then, resting a hand on each dragon’s body, he heaved a sigh. “Father, I know very little about the spirits of dragons and their eternal destiny, but I do know that you are both just and merciful, so I trust that you will take these souls to the place you have prepared for them. Wherever that is, I pray that you will grant peace and everlasting justice to these noble leviathans. Makaidos showed his undying faithfulness to your purpose for dragons, his unflinching loyalty to serve humans at the risk of his own life and the loss of his family, and his hope in your plan for salvation, for, although he was a dragon, he trusted in the human messiah for his deliverance. I ask you to honor his obedience and give him the desire of his heart.”
Merlin rose and shuffled out of the cave, looking over his shoulder briefly before girding himself again and hurrying back to the king. When he arrived, Devin was gone and Palin stood next to Arthur, his sword drawn.
“Where is Devin?” Merlin asked. “I want to have a word with him.”
Arthur pointed down the path. “I sent him to call a council of war at noon tomorrow. We agreed that we must eliminate Goliath and his followers as soon as possible.”
Merlin spread out his arms. “I beseech you, my king. Do not allow this maniac free reign in his quest. A dragon slayer, once he savors the aroma of dragon’s blood, will always lust for more, and he will not care if the dragon is a follower of Goliath or Makaidos. The good dragons will also be targets.”
“During the council we will draw up safeguards to protect your so-called” the king eyed Clefspeare suspiciously “good dragons.”
“Do not denigrate a soul you know so little about simply because its appearance frightens you.” Merlin laid a hand on Clefspeare’s neck. “If humans, kings or otherwise, could elevate their virtue to the level of this noble creature, they would not have to battle hordes in the wilderness, and they would not doubt the counsel of their prophets.”
Arthur’s face reddened, and he spoke through his teeth. “Just make a list of the dragons you want me to protect, and I will forget your careless words.”
Merlin bowed his head. “Although I fear such a strategy, we will make your list.” He climbed up on Clefspeare’s back and looked down at Arthur. “May I assume, Your Majesty, that you do not want a ride to the ca
The king averted his eyes. “You may assume.”
“Then I will meet you in the throne room for this council.” Merlin sighed and shook his head. “May God help us all.”
As the king and Palin departed, Merlin grasped the tallest spine on Clefspeare’s neck. “I fear that this war against Goliath will not stop at the boundary of his influence.”
“Nor at the boundary of his species,” Clefspeare replied.
“What do you mean?”
A low growl created a tremor across the dragon’s scales. “I believe Devin has more on his mind than the conquest of dragons, but time will tell.”
Sapphira walked to the edge of the pulsating red screen and patted her dress with her palms. “Fire? What are you talking about?”
Makaidos closed in on the screen from the opposite side. “When we view you through the light, it appears that you are aflame from head to toe. Do we appear the same way?”
“No,” Sapphira replied. “You and Roxil look like dragons, and Elam and Paili are human, but no one is on fire.”
Makaidos stepped to Sapphira’s side of the screen and looked through it. “Amazing! Elam is taller and more muscular, while Paili is smaller and emaciated.”
Sapphira lowered herself to her knees and touched the Ovulum. It was no longer hot. Carefully lifting it, she carried it and the entire screen in her palm. The half oval expanded below her hand into a full ellipse, exactly as long as Sapphira was tall and more than twice as wide as her narrow frame. As she gazed through it, dozens of new details appeared. The fountain gushed; the statues stood erect, polished with a pristine shine; and the brick kilns puffed gray smoke from iron stacks on top. Yet, no one attended the ovens or strolled the immaculate streets.
“I’m going to try something.” Sapphira walked slowly back toward the portal near the broken fountain. The screen of light added no weight, and it shifted with the slightest turn of the egg, making it easy to keep the viewing screen in front of her. Elam, Paili, and the two “dragons” followed, but they kept silent.
When Sapphira arrived at the dimensional doorway, she held the Ovulum out as far as she could and gazed at the city. All of Shinar seemed coated in crimson, yet clear a hundred times clearer than before. She could count the sparkling crystals in every marble statue and distinguish between the tiniest leaves on a distant sycamore tree.
She turned the screen toward the rise where the tower once stood. Her hand trembled. The tower was there in all its glory, an enormous ziggurat, stretching so high, it extended beyond the edge of her screen and out of sight. As she gazed at it, the screen enlarged and seemed to expand over her head and swallow her body, making her feel like she was inside the scarlet halo. The tower grew, and she could see its very top, a tiny point in the midst of the clouds. Looking down again, the tower’s entry portico began magnifying, as though she were flying toward it at blazing speed. The force against her body rippled her muscles, making her arms and legs cramp, and the stiff counter-breeze dried her eyes until they ached.
The tower’s doors swung open, and she zoomed inside, the sudden turns twisting her body. The planter swung into view along with the dozen surrounding statues, but the tree itself was no longer there. Her body swept into the middle, and her feet settled where the tree once rooted into the soil.
Now that her journey had stalled, she looked around, expecting to see the saluting forms, but they were no longer statues; they were tall lanterns with flaming wicks. Each flame swayed like a writhing ghost.
On the museum wall, huge letters burned into the marble, spelling out a message that nearly encircled the entire chamber. Sapphira read it slowly, letting the words sink into her mind. “When a maid collects an egg, she passes it on, giving it to the one she feeds.”
“It’s a riddle,” she whispered. Suddenly, her body jerked backwards, and she flew in the opposite direction. The tree, the lanterns, and the doorway all shrank, and the screen itself came back into view, as though the halo had spat her out onto the ground. Then, the entire screen flashed off.
Sapphira’s arms fell limp at her sides, but she managed to hang on to the Ovulum. She was back where she had started, or maybe she hadn’t really traveled at all. The whole city spun around her, so fuzzy and confusing, her legs wobbled beneath her.
“What did you see?” Makaidos asked. “Your face is as white as your hair!”
Sapphira could barely whisper. “I know where they are.”
She felt her body falling and the Ovulum slipping from her fingers. Strong hands lifted her back to her feet. “Fear not, child,” Makaidos said. “I have you, and I picked up the Ovulum as well.”
Sapphira blinked at a circle of helpers, four lovely, concerned faces. “Help me get to the tower,” she whispered.
“The tower’s gone,” Makaidos said.
“No. Where it used to be.”
With a quick sweep, Makaidos lifted Sapphira into his arms and marched toward the rise. Sapphira laid her head against his shoulder. His powerful muscles felt secure and stable, like the arms of Elohim when he danced with her at the pool. Even though Makaidos bounced up and down with his gait, she knew he wouldn’t drop her.
“We’re here,” he said softly.
His voice seemed to awaken her from a dream, and as he set her gently on her feet, her mind snapped to attention.
“I think this was the center of the tower’s foundation,” Makaidos said.
Sapphira’s vision magnified all her surroundings, and the familiar sorrow draped a sad curtain across her mind. “It is the center.” She pivoted slowly, trying to see beyond the emptiness that surrounded her. There were supposed to be statues, or maybe lanterns, but nothing appeared.
Elam stroked his chin. “Something’s here, right? You sense something that we can’t see?”
“I think so.” She waved her arm in a wide arc. “Statues. Twelve of them, I believe, and they make a circle around where I’m standing.”
“What makes you think they’re still here?” Roxil asked.
“I saw them through the Ovulum’s screen, but they looked like lanterns instead of people.”
Elam raised his hand as if holding a lantern. “You mean like cavern lanterns?”
“Yes. I think ”
Paili piped up. “Light them!”
“Light them?” Sapphira repeated.
Paili bounced on her toes. “With your fire . . . like at home.”
“How can I light lanterns that aren’t there?”
Elam lifted her hand. “Light the lanterns with these,” he said, spreading out her fingers. “They feed the hungry and bring light to the darkness.”
“Okay,” Sapphira said, “I’ll give it a try.”
She raised her other hand and closed her eyes, imagining where the statues once stood. In her mind, she fixed twelve spots in the space around her. Then, opening her eyes again, she pointed at one of the spots and shouted, “Give me light!”
A flame burst to life and floated in midair. The fire burned downward, creating a blazing human frame. Without fuel or wick, the flame burned on, its human shape writhing as if in the bonds of torture.
Makaidos shielded his eyes and leaned back. “What now?”
Sapphira heaved breathlessly, her hands still raised. What should she do? Light up eleven more people and let them suffer in flames?
Paili tugged on her dress. “Five more!” she shouted.
“Five more?” Sapphira looked down at her. “Why?”
“To make six! Like the wheel!” Paili turned an imaginary wheel.
Sapphira gasped and cried out, “Of course! The control room wheel!” She pointed at the spot to the left of the first statue. “Give me light!” she yelled. Another flame erupted, again creating a human form with its light. She moved to the next “Give me light!” then the next, until six human-shaped torches blazed in orange brilliance.
Breathless again, Sapphira lowered her hands. Suddenl
“Time for nine more!” Sapphira said, waving her arms. “Move those six over here!”
Groggy and groaning, they shuffled or crawled toward the center. Makaidos gazed carefully into the eyes of the first one, a young man who seemed to be in his late teens, and touched a ring on his finger. He nodded at Roxil and whispered, “It’s Hilidan.”
Sapphira lifted her hands again and pointed at the next spot in the circle. “Give me light!” Another statue of fire erupted. She repeated the process, this time moving around the circle in the opposite direction. Finally, the ninth fiery form appeared. She lowered her hands, and a new gust of wind snuffed the flames. Eight women and one girl, all dressed in white silk, crumpled to the floor. The four helpers rushed to guide them toward the center.
A stiff breeze kicked up, swirling around and buffeting Sapphira’s hair. She raised her hands once more, this time closing her eyes.
“We have all the dragons!” Makaidos shouted. “You did it! You can stop.”
“We’re not finished!” Sapphira shouted back. “There’s still the number thirteen.”
She pointed next to the spot where she had ignited the previous lantern. “Give me light!” Yet again, a human-shaped column of fire ignited.
“One!” Paili called out.
Then, going completely around the room, Sapphira lit the other eleven, Paili counting out each new lantern as it burst to life. Finally, when Paili’s shrill “Twelve!” was carried away by the gentle breeze, Sapphira opened her eyes and lowered her arms. This time, no gust of wind came to blow the flames out.
“We need a thirteen!” Paili cried.
Sapphira spread out her arms. “There aren’t any more places in the circle!”
Makaidos pointed at one of the flaming forms as it writhed in place. “I think they’re suffering! We have to do something!”