by Bryan Davis
“True, but don’t make the mistake of projecting your own passion on them. Just because they seem to be following, don’t assume that their hearts burn with your vision for love and service.” Noah sat back down and opened the scroll, angling it toward the lantern. “For I fear that their loyalty could easily be turned.”
Makaidos stretched his neck toward the scroll, but not so far as to read it uninvited. “You are implying that there is something I need to know.”
“Yes. May I read a summary of a conversation between my son and your daughter?”
Makaidos nodded. “Please do.”
Noah’s eyes shifted back and forth, scanning the text. “Here it is. Shem had just summoned Roxil to the ledge after her night’s patrol.” He cleared his throat and began reading. “The she-dragon seemed distracted, nervous. I asked her about the movements of Nimrod’s troops, but she said they had camped quietly all night near the riverbank. I then mentioned that our own scouts had seen a pair of Nimrod’s bowmen stealing through the thickets near Enoch’s grove and asked if she had seen them. She grew irritated, seemingly insulted that I would imply that she had been derelict in her duties. She just flew away without another word. That’s when I decided to go from home to home and check on our people and property.”
Noah rolled up the journal. “That was this morning, Makaidos. We lost a girl in that raid, so we summoned a council of war. I insisted, though many were skeptical, that we call for your help. I knew you would come, but now that Roxil has arrived with you, there will be great concern among our troops.”
Heat surged across Makaidos’s scales. “Roxil will fight for our cause valiantly. I will see to that.”
“Oh, I believe she will, as long as you are with her. My concern is for what she is doing when you are absent.”
“Speak frankly, Master Noah. Do not hold back your thoughts.”
“I will, my friend, but first I must give you some warning about what you are going to face, and this is a prophetic word. In the coming days and decades, you will suffer greatly, and you will suffer alone. With the exception of your dear mate and perhaps an offspring or two, everyone you love and cherish will turn against you. They will claim that no one else agrees with you, so you couldn’t possibly be right. They will call you arrogant, tyrannical, and even mad. They will say that you are so obsessed with your insane version of truth, that you have abandoned all reason, that you have forsaken logic and clear thinking, that you have given up on those you love because of your neurotic fixation on a divine light that no one else can see.”
Makaidos lifted his brow. “Why would loved ones do this to me or anyone else? They know my character. They have seen my integrity.”
“Not just your loved ones, Makaidos. The entire world would do it, because character and integrity are not as important to them as acceptance from the masses or as comforting as the false security they receive from not examining their lives.” Noah leaned back and sighed. “I know this all too well. My sons and I worked like slaves on a boat for a hundred years while people laughed at us and mocked us. Just as I prophesied concerning you, I was obsessed with obeying a heavenly voice that no one else heard. I saved the future of the planet, but in the process I lost one of my sons. I do not regret the years of coercing my sons to build that monstrosity of a boat. Though even their eyes at times seemed to question my sanity, I have been completely vindicated.” He shook his head again, and a tear coursed down his weathered cheek. “But being proven right does not lessen the pain of my loss, for it seems that, in spite of all my efforts, my ark did not keep my own son from drowning.”
Makaidos guided a wing tip over Noah’s shoulder. “A father cannot be held responsible for the sins of his son. I have heard you say this yourself.”
“Responsible?” Noah shook his head. “No. . . . . But am I completely innocent just because he has free will? Seeds of rebellion cannot grow unnoticed, and I ignored them.” He ran his wrinkled hands through his wispy hair, tears again filling his eyes. “Did zeal for God blind me to the rebellion of my own son? Should I have rebuked him every time he rolled his eyes, every time he grumbled when a parade of people passed by mocking us, calling us fools for wasting our lives on building an ark?” He reached for Makaidos’s neck and stroked it lovingly. “Emzara died in sorrow believing Ham was lost forever. Will I go down to Sheol with the same misery haunting me? Is there any hope that a son might turn his heart back to God when he has rejected a salvation he has seen with his own eyes?”
Noah wrapped his arms around Makaidos’s neck and wept, his age-spotted head bobbing up and down under the force of his sobs.
Makaidos hovered a clawed hand over Noah’s back, hesitating to caress the dear old gentleman. Could he really comfort him with such a tough, scaly appendage? Could any dragon truly sympathize with a human? Who could know the heart of a human except for another human?
Makaidos pulled his foreleg back. “I understand,” he said softly. “Perhaps I can restore the hearts of my fellow dragons to the Maker and his purpose for us.”
Noah lowered his arms and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I believe you will, for a messiah is coming, God in flesh, who will rescue mankind. And in the same way, yet another messiah, a human in scales from the fruit of your own body will come to rescue dragonkind.”
Makaidos shook his head. “Master Noah, you speak in puzzles. I do not understand your words.”
“Nor do I,” Noah replied, patting Makaidos’s neck. “Not completely. God’s ways are still mysterious to me, even after all these years.”
Makaidos twitched his ears, unsure of how to continue. “In any case, losing your son is a great tragedy, and I hope to prevent this calamity with my daughter and avoid the pain you are suffering.”
“Yet tragedies surround you, my friend. They lurk at the very entrance to your cave, but you do not feel the danger they threaten.”
“Danger, Master Noah?”
“Yes. Japheth told me that you asked about the dragon in Nimrod’s employ.”
“I did. Please continue.”
“Our scouts have seen Roxil and some of your sons with this dragon on more than one occasion.”
Makaidos spoke through clenched teeth. “Continue.”
“That dragon is Arramos, your father.”
“Arramos?” Makaidos staggered backwards but caught himself before he fell. “Are you sure?”
“Arramos was a good friend of mine, so I asked Shem and Japheth to show him to me. We went to the city disguised as peddlers, and I saw him there myself.”
“But how is that possible? He died! . . . Didn’t he? The flood killed every breathing creature.”
“God told me that it did.” Noah firmed his chin and nodded. “So it must have.”
“Then how do you explain the appearance of my father?”
“Until I get further revelation, I cannot explain it. I have to simply trust God that Arramos died. How is he alive? I do not know. After all I went through with the ark, I have learned a valuable lesson. Evidence that contradicts the word of God, even evidence I see with my own eyes, eventually falls and crumbles.”
“But should we not revere evidence when ”
“Shhh!” Noah lifted the lantern and blew out the flame. Since they were so far back in the recesses of the cave, the chamber fell into complete darkness. “Keep your eyebeams off for a moment, Makaidos, and tell me. If I were not speaking to you, what would evidence tell you? Am I here in this cave with you?”
“I know you are here. I just saw you.”
“Current evidence!” Noah snapped. “Immediate evidence!”
“If not for your voice, I would conclude that you are not here.”
Noah’s tone softened again. “Yet you believe because of what you have learned in the past, what you saw in the light.”
“That is exactly why I believe.”
“Good.” The lantern flashed back on, its wick blazing as Noah pinched a flin
t stone in his fingers. The glow highlighted every deep crevice in the old man’s withered cheeks. He lifted the lantern and stood face-to-face with Makaidos, letting the orange flames sway between them. “What you have learned in the light, my friend, never doubt when it is dark.”
Makaidos stared at the flame. The tongue of fire seemed to try to speak, as if it were a real tongue, carrying on its undulating glow the truth that only light can bring. After a few seconds, he bowed and backed away. “I will remember, Master Noah.”
Chapter 9
The World Above
With Morgan leading the way, Mara and Mardon ascended a winding corridor. Morgan marched quickly along the craggy stone floor, her black dress sweeping noiselessly in time with her gait. The light from her lantern danced across Mardon’s face, revealing worry lines on his brow. His lips twitched on one side as his eyes stayed riveted on his dark leader.
Mara scooted closer and listened to his rasping breaths. Was he frightened of Morgan? He didn’t bat an eye when he lied to her about needing his new assistant to “observe the plants in the upper lands and learn how spawns differ from them in color, texture, and animation.”
But now he seemed nervous as a bat. Was he worried about what the glass egg was going to say when they arrived? She grasped it through her dress pocket. It felt warm against her leg, and the heat radiated into her hand, like a polished stone from the riverbed in the hot springs. But it seemed to have its own heat source, as if it had birthed a flame in its core instead of an embryo.
As they ascended, the air grew colder. Mara rubbed her bare arms. This wasn’t like the cool sensation of getting out of her bath in the springs. This felt different. It was raw, unfriendly, stark. She hoped the air in the upper world would be more inviting.
The tunnel widened into a circular room, and Morgan stopped at the center where a shaft of bright green light stood like a column between floor and ceiling. Mara gaped at it. The shaft appeared just wide enough for her to stand inside and be completely enveloped in light. Its texture seemed so thick she could scoop some into a cup and drink it.
Morgan pointed her long finger at Mardon. “You will go first. If we sent her, who knows how long she would have to wait alone for you to arrive?”
“True,” Mardon said. “The time shift is unpredictable.” He smirked at Morgan. “Since when do you care what happens to a laborer?”
“I don’t care for her sake. I know what she carries in her pocket, and I know what your plans are. Did you think I actually believed your ridiculous story?”
In spite of the cool air, tiny beads of sweat speckled Mardon’s brow, but he held his head high and stared at Morgan. “And you’ll still allow us to go?”
“Yes. I am not a shortsighted woman. The Ovulum’s presence will help bring about my long-term goals.”
Mardon swallowed but kept his gaze locked on Morgan. “The Ovulum?”
Morgan laughed. “What a fool! You don’t even know what kind of power you’re dealing with.” She brushed her hand along his cheek, a wry smile spreading across her face. “But you will soon see.”
Morgan moved her hand down to Mardon’s back and gave him a not-so-gentle push. “Enter the portal.”
Mardon stepped into the bright column. The green radiance enveloped his body, seeming to swallow him until he looked like a human-shaped mass of solid light.
“Access the upper portal in the usual way,” Morgan said. “I want a complete report when you return.” She waved her hand over the surface of the column. “If you return.”
Mardon’s body elongated into a thin ribbon and burst into a flash of sparks. Mara staggered backwards, spreading her arms to keep her balance.
“Don’t worry,” Morgan said, extending her hand toward Mara. “Dimensional travel looks painful, but it is quite safe.”
Mara inched her way back toward the column, her face and ears prickling with heat. “What did you mean by, ‘If you return’?”
“Just a joke. I enjoy putting a fright into him from time to time.”
Mara fanned her face. “He’s not the one you scared.”
Morgan leaned over and smiled a fake, condescending sort of smile. “There is no need to fear, Mara. You will return. You are the most intelligent spawn we’ve ever had. Even the few giants we’ve been able to grow have been stupid beasts, unfit to release to the world above. But I’m sure you and I can work together to create a great army of magnificent beings, strong enough to destroy the dragons and smart enough to thwart the vicious plots of Elohim.”
“What about Mardon? Don’t you need him?”
“I will have use for both him and his father at a later time. For now, just do what he says. But you must also perform one task for me.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a leather pouch, untying its drawstring as she held it out for Mara to see. “I went to the new dig area and found the pit you told me about, and now I know what this is.” She pulled a sparkling jewel from the pouch and laid it in her palm. Radiance from the shaft streamed toward her hand, and the jewel absorbed the flow, making it pulse with green brilliance.
“The gem I found!” Mara said.
Morgan curled her fingers around the gem and slid it into Mara’s dress pocket. “Don’t take it out until Mardon introduces you to his father. Bow low and present it as a gift from the lady in black. Tell the king that it is a candlestone from the walls of the abyss. He will know what to do with it.”
Mara patted the outside of her pocket. The two glass oddities were cushioned by her coif, so they seemed secure. “Will you please ask Naamah to look after my spawn?”
“She will be glad to.” Morgan flattened Mara’s hand against the pocket and guided her toward the column of light. “You must keep the gem secure while you’re in the portal.”
Mara paused at the edge of the column and smiled. Soon she would see the endless sky, and maybe even a dragon. She took a big step into the light. The radiance tickled, but only a little, and when she looked out, everything in the cavern, though tinged with light green, seemed clear and detailed, as though she were looking at it from inches away. She could see tiny pores in each stone and minute crystalline facets within. When she glanced where Morgan had stood, a large winged creature had taken her place. “Morgan!” she cried. “Where are you? I can’t see you anymore!”
“I am here,” the creature squawked. “I have never taught Mardon how to use the lower portal by himself, so don’t tell him what to do. Reach up and grasp a handful of light, then pull it down as if you were climbing a rope.”
Mara followed orders. The light in her hand felt like a cable, similar to the one that pulled the shaft platform up and down, only thinner, about the width of Nabal’s whip. As soon as she finished a single pull, the cavern shattered into a million pieces and fell like volcanic ash, leaving a curtain of complete darkness. Then, a new scene formed, coming into focus as though her eyes were adjusting to the lighting of a lantern. As the view brightened, everything grew sharp and clear, clearer than her normal environment down below, but darker than she had expected. She blinked and drank in her surroundings, recognizing most objects from sketches or descriptions in Mardon’s scrolls buildings in the distance, trees much bigger than any spawn, and a light in the sky, a semicircle of whiteness.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mardon sitting on a log poking a long stick at a small fire near his feet. He glanced up. “Oh. There you are. It’s about time.”
“I thought the sun would be brighter,” she said. “I don’t even need my veil.”
“You will very soon.” He nodded toward the sky. “That’s the moon, the god of the night.”
“A god? Like Elohim?”
“Not really, but my father set up an idol for the moon and the sun and several of the constellations. People want to worship all sorts of objects, so he gives them temples, places to pray. It’s easier to control the masses if you assimilate their superstitions into an approved, national relig
ion.”
Mara shook her head. “I . . . I didn’t understand much of that.”
Mardon laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m just making a political speech.” He picked up the burning stick and traced a line around where Mara stood. “Fire is the key to getting home. If we get separated, come to this site and take a brand from the flames. Then stand in the middle of this circle and wave it over your head as fast as you can.”
Mara waved her hand from side to side. “Like this?”
“No.” Mardon swung his arm in a wide circle. “Like this. The fire will energize the portal and take you home.”
Mara pointed at the fire. “How do you know the logs will stay lit?”
“I have a servant who comes and tends the fire to make sure it never goes out.”
Mara stared at the circle around her feet. An odd feeling seeped into her mind, a long lost sensation of grief and pain, like a mournful voice crying out in her heart. She stepped over the line, and the feeling quickly melted away.
She looked back at the circle, her vision now returning to normal. This portal was invisible, not like the column of light down below. If not for the line on the dirt, how could she recognize a portal if she needed to?
Mardon reached for her hand. “Let’s go to the tower. The king will be rising for the morning blessing soon.”
Mara took his hand and strode beside him, passing between a pair of tall boulders that seemed to act as a gateway to the portal area. As the two gifts clinked in her pocket, she felt more important than she ever dreamed she could. She, Mara, an underborn laborer, was being taken to an audience with a king. “He lives in the tower?” she asked.
“He will live in the shrine when the tower is finished, but until then he goes there at sunrise and blesses the people from the top of the tower.”
Mardon stepped up the pace, forcing Mara to jog to stay at his side. They followed a path through a stand of trees that ended at the edge of an enormous flat field. Mardon stopped and pointed at the slowly brightening scene. About a stone’s throw away, a few huts lined a street that widened as it led to a huge cluster of buildings. In the center of the buildings, a gigantic tower loomed. Mara took two steps back, her mouth dropping open. Its base was so wide, just walking around it might take all day.
