The Bones of Makaidos

by Bryan Davis

  “I was hoping you would.”

  “Guardian,” Sapphira said, “you speak in riddles. Are you able to tell us plainly who you are and where we are?”

  “Some now, some later.” The voice carried no hint of friendliness or malice. “The learning ladder is better climbed a rung at a time rather than in leaps and bounds.”

  Darkness faded. Like dawn on a cloudy day, muted light illuminated their surroundings. Behind them, a head-high waterfall fed a swiftly flowing brook, shallow by all appearances. To each side, a wall of black mountains sealed them in, perhaps a mile or so away, though their height likely skewed the distance. In front, a verdant field lay before them with human-shaped statues dotting the landscape, one within reach.

  A column of white mist swirled around the statue, dressing the polished black stone with a semitransparent veil. With every orbit around the stony face, the vapor seemed to animate the features, giving life to the eyes, nose, and mouth. Wrapped in fog, an arm stretched slowly toward Bonnie and Sapphira. Starting at the tips of its fingers, stone morphed into flames, making a crackling sound as the transformation inched along. Muscles rippled on the forearm, and a fiery sleeve took shape over the bulging bicep.

  Bonnie latched on to Sapphira’s elbow and backed away. “I don’t think it wants a hug.”

  “Not likely.” Sapphira raised her free hand. “Give me a fireball!” She looked at her uplifted palm. Nothing appeared.

  Now engulfed in flames from its waist up, the figure took a step. As if breaking the façade away with its crunching weight, the stony boot crumbled, revealing more flames.

  “It’s too slow to catch us,” Bonnie said, her retreat keeping pace with the statue’s advance. “I wonder what it is.”

  “Once it’s finished transforming, it might be a lot faster, so we’d—”

  “You are solid rock!” The voice seemed to thunder across the land. The flaming man stopped in mid-step and hardened to stone again.

  Bonnie looked up at the ash gray sky, searching for an airborne creature, something large enough to bellow such a resounding command, but nothing appeared.

  A low voice droned. “It is wise to my eyes to avoid the citizens of this valley. You are likely not prepared to face them or displace them.”

  Bonnie again looked for the speaker of the rhyming words. A large red dragon stood near the brook, maybe a dozen feet away, the end of its tail flicking the water.

  Pushing back her wet hair, she narrowed her eyes again, trying to get a good look at the dragon. This scene was so much like the first circle in the Circles of Seven, even the heaviness, a dragging weight that was worse than the effect of her saturated clothes.

  “Do you fear me?” the dragon asked, his voice low but not unpleasant.

  “Well …” Bonnie peeled her sweatshirt over her head and began wringing it out. Maybe it would be best to show confidence in spite of their circumstances. “Should I fear you?”

  The dragon’s eyes flashed dark blue, and his voice lowered to a growl. “Only my enemies need fear me. My friends revere me.”

  “Hmmm. . .” Bonnie squinted at him. He didn’t answer the question, very much like the deceitful dragon in the circles. During that encounter, the dragon had tried to get her to look into a pool, in violation of a command to avoid reflections. If this one was trying to play games with her mind, she would have to be on the alert.

  Sapphira stepped ahead of Bonnie. “What’s your name? And how did you know to address us in English?”

  Extending his neck, the dragon brought his head closer and spoke in what sounded like an old and lovely language.

  Sapphira set her hands on her hips. “No, I don’t prefer ancient Hebrew. I’m just trying to figure out who you are and where we are.”

  “You two are inquisitive for a pair of intruders.” The dragon shuffled toward them and stopped within a wing’s reach. “Tell me, if two alien beings barged into your home and demanded answers to their inane questions, would you be pleased or pestered?”

  While Sapphira aimed a suspicious stare at him, Bonnie pondered his words. With only the dragon and statues in this land, a human could be considered alien, yet the statues seemed human enough. Apparently hewn out of some kind of black rock, they were roughly shaped and indistinct, though the faces carried more detail. “I would be pestered,” she finally said.

  “Why did you hesitate?” the dragon asked. “Is truth so precious in your land that you must speak it sparingly? Do you consider the cost of truth before you spend it? Or do you merely lend it at your leisure?”

  Bonnie looked at Sapphira. With her hands still on her hips and her brow bent low, Sapphira seemed unwilling to play this dragon’s game. Bonnie copied her pose, hoping to show her distrust, but for some reason, her arms and legs felt heavy and stiff. She had to raise and lower her feet as if marching in place to keep her blood circulating. And she had to answer. This dragon represented their only source of knowledge.

  “It’s fair to say that truth is precious in my world,” Bonnie said. “There are many liars, as well as those who would use our words against us, making us hesitant to reveal all we know. Yet, among friends, we are glad to speak truth without reservation.”

  The dragon let out a long “Hmmm,” then added, “Is that so?”

  Sapphira dipped her knee as if offering a curtsy and flavored her tone with a lovely formality. “Please pardon our intrusion and our many questions, but since we all find truth to be valuable, is it not reasonable for us to seek it and for you to dispense it?”

  The dragon gave them a slow nod. “Reasonable to ask? Yes. Reasonable to expect answers? Not necessarily. For the one bearing answers is sometimes obligated to hold his tongue. For some, truth is an incisive sword, a light in low luminance, a path to protection, yet, as the other lass has already indicated, in other hands, truth is a divider, a stone hurled to inflict injury, a club to beat down those who lack opportunity to light lamps of their own.”

  Bonnie let his words soak in. They seemed profound, more straightforward than those of the dragon in the Circles of Seven. And this dragon alternated between lovely prose and abrupt, in-your-face declarations, sometimes alliterating and sometimes speaking with rhymes. He was definitely not the evil dragon from the first circle.

  “It is wise,” the dragon continued, “to learn in what manner someone will wield a sword before equipping her with one. Quite often this discernment requires a test to prove both worth and wisdom, and those of integrity never fear the light that such a test would bring, for light is the key to every locked door.”

  “Very well.” Sapphira bowed her head. “Since we have no opportunity to prove our worth, may we have leave to explore this land … to light our own lamps, as you say?”

  “Have you grown weary of conversing with me?” Twin lines of smoke rose from his nostrils. “Do you think that I am unable to light your lamps? Ask me a question. I will give you a truthful answer.”

  Bonnie looked down at her legs. Her jeans were caked with dried mud. She stamped her foot lightly, making it break away and relieving a buzzing tingle.

  “A truthful answer?” Sapphira spread out her arms. “What is this place, and who are you?”

  “I invited a singular question,” the dragon replied, “and you have offered a pair of puzzlers. Is requiring only one a reasonable request?”

  “It’s reasonable. I just wanted to save a little time.”

  “Ah, yes. Time. A tantalizing topic.” The dragon set his head near Sapphira’s and drilled his shining stare at her eyes. “Tell me, do you believe that God exists within a time framework, or is he outside of time, able to see every past and future event as if they were present?”

  “Why does that matter?” Sapphira asked. “I’m just trying to figure out where we are.”

  Bonnie glanced once more at her heavy legs. As before, mud covered her pants from knees to ankles. She stomped both feet, loosening the dirt again.

  “Explaining where you are,” the
dragon said, “is dependent on your understanding of time.”

  As the dragon droned on, Bonnie looked at Sapphira’s legs. They, too, were coated with drying mud, and her feet seemed locked in place. Bonnie took Sapphira’s hand and pulled her to the side, forcing her to move her feet. The mud cracked and flaked away.

  “Why did you do that?” Sapphira asked.

  “Just trust me.” Bonnie shifted back to the dragon. “It’s been nice talking to you, but we really need to go and learn about this place ourselves.”

  “Has it really been nice talking to me?” he asked. “Or is this an idiomatic pleasantry by which you are hiding the truth of the matter?”

  Keeping hold of Sapphira’s hand, Bonnie walked back the way they came. “We’re going.”

  “You may go,” the dragon said as daylight waned. “But you must begin without a flame or a flicker. As you discover the truths of my realm, your vision will be restored.”

  Bonnie wheeled back toward the dragon. Darkness blanketed everything in sight until only a pair of pulsing blue eyes floated in the midst. “I will provide you with a few of truth’s precious gems,” he continued. “First, you who claim to cherish the true treasures have neglected to secure a most precious valuable. Since the waterfall was your source of entry, I suggest you search the river. Second, you have no reason to assume that the creatures you meet in this place will tell you the truth. And third …” The eyes drew so close, Bonnie could feel the dragon’s hot breath on her cheeks. “There is only one way to escape. That truth you must also learn on your own, but it might be a terrible truth that you will be unable to bear.”

  The eyes vanished, leaving Bonnie and Sapphira in complete darkness. A shiver ran along Bonnie’s soaked skin. She checked for her necklace. It was gone, likely stripped over her head by the rushing water, but would the dragon be aware of that? “Do you know what valuable he was talking about?” she asked.

  “Maybe …”

  Bonnie waited, listening to the swish of Sapphira’s wet clothes. A low groan followed.

  “The ovulum and Elam’s journal are gone!”

  Chapter 9

  A Reunion

  Where did you last remember having them?” Bonnie asked.

  “The ovulum was still in my pouch when we were on the ledge, and the journal was tucked behind my waistband, so they must have dropped out in the whirlpool. Since I was so wet, I guess I didn’t notice the change.”

  “Come on.” Bonnie groped for Sapphira’s hand. “He said to search in the river.”

  As soon as she felt Sapphira’s grip, Bonnie led her toward the sound of running water. “I don’t think it’s deep, and won’t the ovulum glow? It should be easy to find.”

  “It doesn’t always glow, and when it does, it’s usually when I’m holding it. And the journal’s probably waterlogged somewhere.”

  “True,” Bonnie said. “We’d better concentrate on the ovulum.” She thought about mentioning the journal’s protective coating, but would that also protect it from water? She decided not to bring that up and raise potentially false hopes.

  As their feet sloshed into the edge of the river, Sapphira drew back her hand. “I don’t trust that dragon. Everything he said about truth being precious to him might have been a lie.”

  “I know what you mean,” Bonnie said. “I’ve dealt with a lying dragon before, but he might be telling the truth about where the ovulum is. It’s worth a try.” She waded into thigh-deep water. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about mud collecting on her clothes in here.

  When it began getting shallower again, she moved back to the deepest section, stooped, and searched the sandy bottom with her fingers. “Do you know if it floats?”

  Sapphira splashed next to her. “I don’t remember it ever being in water.”

  “If it sinks, then it’s likely to be in the middle instead of the sides, but if it floats, then the current might take it past us.”

  “And it might have already floated beyond this point.”

  Bonnie grimaced. Sapphira was right. This search might be a fool’s game, but what else could they do? Consulting Enoch about this place and how to escape might be their only hope.

  As she shuffled forward, listening to the sound of the nearby waterfall, the cold current chilled her skin, making her shiver again.

  “It’s getting colder,” Sapphira said.

  “I noticed.” Bonnie had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. “I wonder why. I thought we might get used to it after a while.”

  A gentle laugh arose, far away and drifting on the wind. It sounded wonderfully alive and carefree.

  “Did you hear that?” Bonnie asked.

  “A woman laughing?”

  “I think so.”

  “Just a second ago,” Sapphira said, “I thought I heard a man talking. It’s almost like he told a joke, and the woman laughed.”

  Bonnie shuddered, yet not from the chill of being wet. The feeling that someone was watching never seemed so real before. It felt like cold, curious fingers petted her bare forearm, raising a thousand new goose bumps.

  As they pressed on, the sound of falling water grew louder. The riverbed descended, signaling the deeper pool dredged out by the plunging force. Strangely enough, a sense of warmth flowed across Bonnie’s skin.

  “Feel that?”

  “I do.” Sapphira ran a slippery finger across Bonnie’s arm. “And the water feels oily, like it has some kind of petroleum in it. If there’s a spring at the bottom, then this pool might be really deep. And if the ovulum sank, then—”

  “It is quite deep, ladies.”

  Bonnie stopped. A male voice? Where did it come from?

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  “Bonnie, don’t you recognize my voice?”

  The sound came from the riverbank to her right. She turned that way and replayed the words in her mind. The voice was familiar, but hearing it in total darkness made it seem heavy, frightening. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t—”

  Sapphira grabbed Bonnie’s arm and whispered, “Remember what the dragon said? Don’t give away truth so fast.”

  “Right.” Bonnie pressed her lips together. The voice still buzzed in her brain. It was so tantalizing, like a cry from her past, a call she couldn’t possibly ignore.

  Sapphira cleared her throat. “May I ask who is addressing us?”

  “I am Dr. Matthew Conner, Bonnie’s father.”

  A new chill ran up Bonnie’s spine. “My father? But he died. I saw him die.”

  “So did you, Bonnie, and now you breathe the breath of life.”

  Bonnie stood upright, now in waist-deep water. The voice did sound like her father’s, though younger, more like the father she knew when she was about six years old. “How did you come back to life?”

  “I did not say that I came back to life. I only mentioned your resurrection, not mine.”

  Sapphira clutched Bonnie’s wrist. “He’s being evasive, Bonnie. I don’t think—”

  “The other water wader speaks again.” He chuckled in a friendly manner. “May I suggest that the one standing on solid ground might be the one making more sense right now?”

  “We might as well get out,” Bonnie said. “If the ovulum sank, we won’t find it until we have some light.”

  As the two trudged over to the bank, Bonnie felt a strong grip on her hand and a helpful pull. She didn’t bother to resist.

  The man released her and continued. “Do you know where you are, Bonnie?”

  “We’ve been trying to figure that out, but the dragon—”

  “The dragon wouldn’t tell you, right?”

  Bonnie let a laugh flavor her reply. “He’s not exactly free with information.”

  “It took me a while to learn that lesson.” The man’s voice grew warm and caring. “Think about it, Bonnie. You saw me die at the hands of Devin, but when you visited Heaven, did you see me there?”

  Bonnie’s heart sank. Remembering the city
of ivory and the streets of shimmering gold should have sparked joy and anticipation, but now, like every time she thought of that holy place, her emotions seemed torn. No, she hadn’t seen him there, and ever since that visit, she forced herself to sweep away every thought that her daddy had instead been condemned.

  “Your hesitation speaks volumes,” he said. Fingers combed back her wet hair, and his voice trembled, filled with sorrow. “Sweet daughter, did you think I had gone to Hell?”

  Bonnie swallowed hard. Sweet daughter? It was like an echo, a long lost dream. The words bathed her ears with fresh joy, the joy her images of Heaven should have kindled with every thought. How old was she when her father last uttered that phrase? Four? Five? When her wings started growing, the terms of endearment ended, replaced by … “Freak of nature,” she whispered out loud.

  The fingers pulled back. “What did you say?”

  Bonnie pressed her lips together again. With tears welling, her voice cracked as her words poured out. “Daddy, you called me a freak of nature. I heard you. I was only about six, but I remember. I was playing with my dolls, and … ” She felt smaller, vulnerable and weak. “You … you said it to Mama. It hurt. It really hurt a lot. And you never called me your sweet daughter again.”

  Her tears burst forth. Strong arms wrapped her up. A hand stroked her head and another rubbed her shoulder. “Oh, Bonnie! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”

  She laid her head on his chest and wept. Her hands curled into fists, begging to pound his chest, yet her arms ached to hug him in return. She tried to speak, but her words came out in spasms. “Daddy … I … I love you. But … but you hurt me so bad. When I didn’t see you in Heaven … I wasn’t sad … not really. I just …” She threw her arms around him and pressed closer. “Oh, Daddy, I love you so much!”

  The hands continued stroking her head, and his familiar voice, that tender voice from long ago, whispered in her ear. “I love you, too, sweet daughter. Never again will you fear the hateful words that imprisoned you. They are gone forever.”

  She blinked. Although tears blurred her vision, his shirt came into view. The darkness had faded, not much, but enough to see the man in her arms. She looked up at his face. Yes, it was Daddy. His face was the youthful one she remembered from her younger days. Although tears streamed down his cheeks as he gazed back at her, his eyes sparkled with delight.