Eye of the Oracle

by Bryan Davis

  “And now for your gift!” Patrick withdrew a small, velvet-covered box from his jacket pocket, and, carefully lifting the hinged lid, presented it to Shiloh.

  As she pulled out a delicate gold chain, a wide smile spread across her face. An octagonal bronze pendant dangled at the bottom of the chain with a marble-sized white stone glimmering at its center.

  “Shiloh!” Gabriel shouted. “You have to hear me! Morgan is coming!”

  Paili ran a finger along the chain’s links. “Do you like it?” she asked.

  Shiloh leaned over and kissed each of her parents. “I love it! Thank you!” She settled back and examined the gem in the pendant’s center. “What is this? A pearl?”

  After draping the chain around her neck, Patrick hooked the fastener. “It’s a rubellite, the rarest kind. It was once red, and it suddenly turned white almost a year before you were born. It’s a family heirloom my sister gave me a long time ago.”

  Gabriel laid his hands on Shiloh’s cheeks. His fingers flashed like scarlet beacons. “Danger is near, Shiloh! You have to run! Now!”

  Shiloh’s eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly.

  “Is something wrong?” Patrick asked.

  Shiloh lowered her brow. “I’m not sure. I have a funny feeling, like someone’s calling me.”

  “Really?” Paili touched Shiloh’s hand. “Is it an audible voice?”

  Shiloh closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m probably just tired.” She rubbed her thumb across the smooth stone. “So you got this from Irene? The lady in your stories about the dragons?”

  “Yes,” Patrick replied. “It represents our life essence. Irene ”

  The man burst out of the thicket. “Stay where you are!” He drew a sword from a scabbard and ran toward the birthday gathering.

  Gabriel unfurled his wings in front of Shiloh and flashed his energy field with all the power he could muster, but how would that stop a charging swordsman? Without electricity, he was nothing but an invisible ghost! He scanned the skies. The closest electrical line hung at least a hundred yards away. Too far to tap into its power!

  Leaping in front of Paili and Shiloh, Patrick spread his arms. The intruder halted and pricked Patrick’s throat with the point of the sword. Paili jumped up, but Patrick lifted his hand, signaling for her to stay away. He angled his head back. “Palin!” He swallowed hard. “What is the meaning of this?”

  A female voice answered Patrick. “You know the meaning, Valcor.”

  Stepping aside, Palin lowered the sword. A slender, dark-haired woman appeared from behind a tree. Her ghostly form seemed to float, though her legs moved in a normal cadence. “You didn’t send me a card with your change of name and address,” she said. “I was worried that I would never find you again or meet your lovely daughter.”

  Patrick glared at her. “Morgan. How typical of you to pollute the pristine meadows like a walking weed.”

  A scowl flashed across Morgan’s face, but she quickly replaced it with a broad smile. “Poetic, as always, my old friend, but your insults are misplaced. I have a wonderful birthday gift for Shiloh, and I would like for her to come with me to receive it.”

  Gabriel tried to shove Morgan with his hands, then with his wings, but to no avail.

  Shiloh stood behind her father and wrapped her arms around his waist. Patrick grasped her hands in front and intertwined his fingers with hers. “You’ll give her a gift when pigs fly, Witch!”

  Morgan’s smile melted into a thin horizontal line. “I thought you would come up with a more original quip, but your denial was expected.”

  “Where is your other pet gorilla?” Patrick asked, nodding toward Palin. “Has Devin finally given up hunting for your hostiam?”

  Morgan reached for Palin’s blade and pricked her finger on its tip, drawing a bead of black fluid. “Because of your little shooting incident the last time you two met, I thought Devin would not control himself as well this time. If you decided to reject my demands, as I expect you will, Devin would kill you, and all would be lost.” She held out her hand, allowing a drop of thick blood to fall to the leaf-strewn grass. A wiggling brown sliver crawled out of the ground, like an earthworm squeezing up from a narrow hole. As it emerged, it lengthened to the size of a man’s foot, then doubled, constantly growing in girth, and, as it continued to stretch, one end morphed into the head of a snake.

  Gabriel tried to grab the snake, but his fingers slipped right through it. He clenched his fists and screamed, “Help me! I don’t know what to do!” But his cry fizzled, unheard. Even the giant hill refused to reply with an echo.

  Morgan grasped the snake and wrapped it around her shoulders and torso. Cradling its neck in her hand, she brought the hissing head closer to Patrick as he edged backwards. “So when we finally tracked you down,” she continued, “I sent Devin to make sure the place I prepared is ready for your daughter’s arrival.” She took a quick step toward Patrick, and the snake lunged and latched its fangs onto Shiloh’s forearm.

  Shiloh screamed and shook her arm until the snake finally released her and dropped to the ground. Patrick stomped on its head with the heel of his boot, pounding it flat. Paili yanked Shiloh away and hustled her to the nearby oak tree.

  Morgan shook her head in mock lament. “What a shame! Now I’ll have to take Shiloh with me.” She picked up the dead snake by the tail. “You see, I have the only cure for the serpent’s venom.”

  As Paili tended to Shiloh’s wound, Patrick spat at Morgan’s feet, his face red and taut. “What good is she to you?” he shouted. “She can’t be your hostiam without my approval!”

  Morgan wound the snake’s body into a ball and slung it into the thicket. “Don’t worry. I will keep her safe in the sixth circle until you change your mind. I’ll let you decide which is better for her. Will you let me take her body, or will you condemn her to live an eternity of tortured loneliness? For now, though, you have to answer a more urgent question. Will you allow the serpent’s venom to rot her flesh over the next three days until she suffers an excruciatingly painful death, or will you give her to me?”

  Patrick shot her a threatening glare. “For healing only. Not as your hostiam.”

  Morgan smirked. “I will accept that for now. It will amuse me to see how long it takes you to change your mind.”

  Patrick ran to the tree and scooped Shiloh into his arms, whispering as he carried her back to Morgan. “Will you trust me, dearest angel?”

  Amid dripping tears, Shiloh nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

  As Patrick gazed into her eyes, his own tears fell onto her dress. “Will you remember what I’ve taught you? Never lose faith, no matter how long it takes. Above all, never eat Morgan’s food. God will provide for all your needs.”

  Shiloh shook her head. “I won’t forget, Daddy! I’ll never forget!”

  Sapphira pointed at the screen. “Palin’s carrying Shiloh up the tor. Do you think Gabriel will be able to follow her?”

  “To the sixth circle?” Acacia pinched her chin. “I doubt it. He’d have to cross dimensions again.”

  “But Shiloh’s got the pendant with her. Maybe Gabriel can use it somehow to get through a portal.”

  “Good point, but we’d better hush and listen. It’s hard to hear them.”

  In the viewport, Patrick and Paili charged up the hill behind Palin. Morgan halted, waiting for the pursuers to close the gap. She knocked Patrick flat with a wall of blackness, then shoved Paili with her foot, sending her tumbling to the bottom. Patrick scrambled down and helped Paili to her feet. Now separated by the entire slope of the towering hill, Patrick yelled up at Shiloh. “I’ll send someone to find you. I promise!”

  “I know you will, Daddy!” she called back. “I’ll be waiting!”

  With Shiloh still draped across his arms, Palin crouched low in front of Morgan as the dark sorceress waved her hand over her head. A
blinding light flashed across the viewport and covered the hill with a sparkling blanket of white.

  A lump grew in Sapphira’s throat. Was Gabriel close enough to Morgan to follow her through the portal? Would the scene change to the other dimension? After a few seconds, the flash’s glow faded away, revealing the familiar sloping grass of the Glastonbury Tor.

  Sapphira stamped her foot. “He didn’t follow!”

  “Shiloh’s in big trouble.” Acacia turned to Sapphira. “Why did her father tell her not to eat Morgan’s food? Does he know about her poisonous fruit?”

  Sapphira folded her hands in front of her lips. “Probably, but I don’t think Morgan would give it to her. She wants Shiloh to live.”

  “So now, if she doesn’t disobey her father, she’ll starve.”

  “Not if I can help it.” Sapphira withdrew the cross from her waistband. “I know how to get to the sixth circle.”

  “How? When we go through the portal Morgan just used, we come out at our mining level, and the rest of the portals here are closed.”

  Sapphira waved her hand across the screen, and it rolled up into a spinning orange column. “Not this one,” she said, nodding at the portal.

  “That leads to Morgan’s swamp. I know you love wrestling with serpents, but it’s still not the sixth circle.”

  Sapphira tightened her grip on the cross. “I got to the sixth circle from Morgan’s island. I can do it again.”

  “Will you be able to get home?”

  Sapphira stared at Acacia. The deep lines in her sister’s brow mirrored her own concern. Could she return? To get to the sixth circle, she had plunged through that strange hole in one of the three doors, so there was no way to climb back up. And she left the sixth circle through a portal that led to the floor of the deep chasm, but, even if it still worked, climbing the sheer cliff would be impossible. The only other option was to dive into the boiling magma river, but going through that portal would destroy Dragons’ Rest, if it didn’t destroy her first.

  Acacia laid her hand on Sapphira’s cheek. “You don’t know how to get back, do you?”

  “No,” Sapphira said, lowering her chin. “I don’t.”

  Acacia leaned over and picked up a stack of folded denim next to her sleeping mat. “I guess we should wear blue jeans, shouldn’t we?”

  “For what?”

  Acacia handed Sapphira a pair of jeans and kept another pair for herself. “For our journey to the sixth circle. Our skirts aren’t exactly suitable for tromping through snake-infested swamp water.”

  “Right, but we don’t know how ”

  “To get back. I know. A minor detail.” Acacia slipped her jeans on. “We’ll just create a new portal somewhere and see where it goes.”

  Sapphira pulled up her own jeans. “But what if it’s dangerous? We can’t risk Shiloh’s life.”

  “Easy.” Acacia pinched the snap closed. The faded jeans hung loosely on her narrow hips. “We’ll return by ourselves, and then, if it’s safe, we’ll go back to get her.”

  “Okay.” Sapphira fastened her own baggy jeans, castaway pants from a beggars’ bin. “But in case we can’t get back,” she continued, tucking away the cross, “I want to bring her some food that’ll last a long time.” Sapphira ran to the museum and plucked one of the smallest white clusters from the branches, now plentiful in the midst of the lush greenery, some as large as a small melon. As she hustled to the portal, she carefully slipped the fruit into her jeans pocket.

  “Do you think you can keep it dry in the swamp?”

  “It won’t matter,” Sapphira said. “If she’s hungry enough, she’ll eat it.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Acacia hurried to the museum and returned with a thick scroll tucked under her arm.

  Sapphira pointed at it. “Is that for opening a portal or bashing snakes?”

  “Both.” Acacia opened the scroll a few inches. “It’s one I’ve been saving for portal travel, but if it breaks on a snake’s head, I won’t mind. Besides, we have lots of modern books now.”

  Sapphira took Acacia’s hand. “Let’s get going.”

  The two oracles walked into the column. As usual, Sapphira’s vision sharpened, enabling her to distinguish the tiniest slivers of radiant energy as they swirled around her head. Fighting the sadness, she grasped a stream of light and pulled. Instantly, the cavern dissolved, and they zoomed upward. A heavy, wet wind buffeted their heads. Sapphira pulled out her cross and shouted through the gusts. “Ignite!” Wind-beaten flames covered the cross and sizzled in the moisture-laden air.

  Suddenly, they blasted through the surface of the swamp. Flying upward within a spewing cylindrical geyser, Sapphira wriggled around to get her bearings. The swamp lay about twenty feet below, and she and Acacia were still soaring higher, though their acceleration seemed to be slowing.

  Acacia readied her scroll. “Flying is pretty cool,” she said with a deadpan tone, “but I think we’re going to fall now.”

  The two girls linked arms and plummeted toward the water. Sapphira pointed her cross downward and shouted, “Give me all you’ve got!”

  A narrow fountain of flames roared from the cross and sizzled into the swamp, creating a thrust that slowed their plunge. Erupting from the water’s surface, a dense column of steam struck Sapphira’s buttocks, soaking her jeans with scalding moisture.

  Sapphira and Acacia splashed into the swamp and immediately lunged toward shore through its scummy, waist-deep water. “Hurry!” Sapphira yelled, holding her still-flaming cross high.

  Acacia trudged at her side with the scroll clenched in her fist. Behind them, the water began to stir. Serpentine scales broke the surface and glinted in the sunlight.

  Sapphira slogged through the muddy bottom. Every step seemed an eternity as they waded to thigh-deep, then knee-deep water. Finally, Sapphira began to sprint, but as she splashed toward shore, a horrible scream made her spin around. Close behind her, Acacia limped toward shore dragging a huge serpent that had latched on to her ankle. She fell to her knees and smacked its body with her scroll.

  Snatching the scroll, Sapphira pounded the snake’s midsection. When it finally let go, she grabbed it by the tail and whipped it out into the swamp. Pushing her arms under Acacia’s shoulders, she heaved her sister onto dry land.

  Acacia’s face twisted in pain. “My leg’s on fire!”

  Sapphira brushed a strand of hair from Acacia’s forehead. “It’s the venom. I can see red lines crawling up your skin.”

  “My heart!” Acacia gasped. “It’s jumping like crazy.”

  Sapphira whispered for the cross to darken and laid it on Acacia’s chest. “Don’t die on me, now. Just hang on.”

  Acacia’s voice fell to a whisper as she labored through convulsive breaths. “Morgan said . . . she has the only cure.”

  “Morgan’s a liar!” Sapphira dug into her pocket and retrieved the fruit. “Maybe this will help.”

  “But we said . . . we weren’t going to eat it unless . . . we were starving.”

  “You’re not going to eat it.” Sapphira squeezed the fruit between her palms. Now that it was wet, it smashed easily into a thick, pasty poultice. She held the mash in her palm and picked up her cross again. “I’m going to rub this stuff in, but first, I’m going to open up the wound a bit more to make sure it gets into your bloodstream.”

  “What makes you think . . . this will work?”

  “It healed the rash on my palm, so I think it’s worth a try.” Bringing the cross near Acacia’s ankle, she whispered, “A small flame, please, right at the tip.” The top of the cross ignited with a conical flame. “Okay,” she said, looking back at Acacia. “This is really going to hurt.”

  “Go ahead. It can’t hurt more than it already does.”

  Sapphira pushed the tip of the fire into one of the puncture wounds on Acacia’s ankle.

  “Aaaauuugh!” Acacia gritted her t
eeth. Her words barely punched through. “Okay . . . I was . . . wrong.”

  “Shhh! The dog might show up.” The flame sliced a nearly bloodless gash, the heat cauterizing most of the vessels as they blistered open. With the wound now raw and gaping, Sapphira rubbed in the poultice, hoping she could massage it into Acacia’s bloodstream.

  Her entire body trembling, Acacia bit her shirt and let out a muffled scream.

  Sapphira grimaced. “I’m sorry. I have no idea if I’m doing this right. I’m no surgeon, you know.”

  “No kidding.” Acacia shook even harder, but after a few seconds, her tremors subsided, and she let out a long sigh.

  Sapphira kept her hand over the wound. Heat radiated through the mash and stung her palm. “Is it feeling better?”

  “A little. Now it’s more like Nabal’s whip hitting me on the ankle about a thousand times.”

  Sapphira lifted her hand. The goop had turned pink, but a small white spot stood out in the mixture. She plucked out a tough, yet flexible bead about the size of a baby’s tooth. Tiny red stripes encircled the bead three times.

  “The fruit had a seed in the middle,” Sapphira said, stuffing it into her pocket. “I’ll save it for later.”

  “So what are we going to do now? We don’t have any food to give Shiloh.”

  “I guess I’ll tell her I’ll come back once I create a safe portal.”

  “Okay.” Acacia folded her hands over her waist. “I’ll wait here for you.”

  “No. If Morgan doesn’t find you, that dog probably will.”

  Acacia pushed up to a sitting position. “Then I’ll go with you.”

  Sapphira touched Acacia’s leg just above her wound. “You have to drop through a hole and land pretty hard. I don’t think your leg could handle it.”

  “Okay,” Acacia said. “Do you have a plan?”