The Bones of Makaidos

by Bryan Davis

  As they ascended to just under the cloudbank, Billy watched his father’s flight, his eyebeams aimed straight ahead. He seemed to be in deep thought. Was he thinking about his vulnerability? His relative weakness in this place of cold and so little sunlight? How long could these dragons maintain their power?

  Billy’s thoughts turned to his conversation with the two guards. Apparently, Elam had vulnerabilities of his own. Stout’s words came back to mind. If doubt is allowed to fester, idle talk can cause it to spread, and seditious talk can set it on fire.

  Sure, Flint was gone, but could there be another source of sedition? Semiramis definitely talked a good talk, but it seemed that everything she was involved in turned into a disaster. Because of her, a new plant was growing that was a spawn of Arramos, and they couldn’t do anything to stop it. Her discovery of Shiloh’s prison led to Acacia’s disappearance. And even her help with healing Listener could be explained as a stealthy way of gaining trust rather than a truly caring gesture.

  Billy lowered his head to get out of the stiff breeze. The coming weeks, months, and maybe even years would seem so long, especially without Bonnie around to talk to.

  Bonnie stood near the waterfall in the Valley of Souls and looked into the pool. Her rippled reflection, a human-shaped statue of flames stared back at her. It was all so strange, good in a way, yet awful in another. It was like the passions in her heart burned on the outside of her body—love, faith, zeal—but was it always the best idea to show these feelings to everyone so plainly?

  Two other flaming people joined her, one on each side. To Bonnie’s right, The Maid’s French-flavored voice sang out. “Do not fear.” She dipped her toe in the water. Although the girl’s skin and the outline of her foot clarified, the fire kept burning. “Nothing is able to extinguish your flame, unless you allow it.”

  Standing on Bonnie’s left, Sapphira looked at the waterfall. “Can we try to go back through the portal?” She let her fire die away. “I can try it by myself and see what happens.”

  “Oh, please do not,” The Maid said. “Abaddon has already warned me that this portal is closed at the other side by thick layers of rock. You would drown if you made the attempt. And if you wish to perish by water, the pool would be more efficient. It would be easier to retrieve your body.”

  “Thanks,” Sapphira said, “but that’s not exactly comforting.”

  The Maid withdrew a dagger and set it on the ground next to Bonnie. “Abaddon said you must take this.”

  Sapphira stared at it. “It’s the staurolite dagger! How did you get it?”

  “It washed down from your world, and Abaddon found it. I can only assume someone threw it into the portal.”

  “I did that,” Sapphira said. “It’s evil. It tried to get me to kill myself.”

  “I see.” The Maid picked it up again and looked at it. “Perhaps its evil nature has been purged. Since Abaddon insisted that Bonnie keep it, the dagger must be safe. He is quite adept at exorcising an evil spirit.”

  Bonnie took it from The Maid. “I don’t have a sheath for it.”

  “That is easily remedied. I think we will be here long enough to make one.”

  Sapphira pulled the ovulum from the pouch and stared at the clear glass.

  “Still no Enoch?” Bonnie asked.

  Sapphira pushed it back in place. “I think we’re on our own.”

  “The heavenly viewer will work here,” The Maid said. “There is likely a problem on the other side.”

  “That’s not good news,” Bonnie said. “If Enoch’s in trouble, then everyone else is, too.”

  The Maid laughed. “There is no need to fear. An Oracle of Fire surely understands this.”

  Bonnie stared at her hands again. Somehow she could see the outline of her fingers a little better. It was almost like being in the candlestone. When she first dove into the stone, she was just a mass of energy, but over time her details grew clear.

  She looked at The Maid. She, too, seemed to be clearer. Her eyes were sharp and piercing, and her hair flowed behind her, clearly blond, even within her fiery shell.

  Yet, The Maid had been there for years, so the reason for her clarity had to be a sharpening in Bonnie’s vision. Would they soon be able to see each other plainly? Could The Maid already see every detail in Bonnie’s face and form?

  Bonnie sat down and dipped her feet in the water. Although it felt neither warm nor cool, it was refreshing. “How much warning will we have if we’re about to be called?”

  The Maid stooped beside her. “Abaddon receives word of possible callings at least an hour in advance, by Earth’s reckoning, but with the will of man as part of the equation, it is rarely certain. He sometimes prepares, and the call does not occur. Only when the call is a fulfillment of prophecy is he ever certain.”

  After a pause, The Maid added, “But since you are an Oracle of Fire, I am sure you suspected this.”

  “Why do you keep saying I should know these things?” Bonnie asked. “I’ve been an Oracle of Fire for what? Three days?”

  “Do you mean to say that you did not know these things?” The Maid cocked her head, a curious expression behind her flaming aura. “Do you not know that God would give you time to respond to a resurrection call? That there is no need to fear the future? If not, then how can you be an oracle?”

  “Okay, I did know those things.” Bonnie shook her head sadly. “Now I’m not sure why I thought I might not have known. I feel kind of foolish.”

  “It is because you have lived so long among people who love their slavery. Although the key to the lock has been provided, they refuse to employ it, even those who verbally profess the same faith. They hold on to the chains, because a faithless life seems easier to them than the sacrificial suffering that you and every other oracle is called to live. They even drag these chains and moan about their weight, yet they still refuse to let them go, even though they are told time and again that every lock has been rendered powerless by the Lord Christ. Such is the madness of this generation of mankind.”

  “And living among them,” Bonnie said, “I guess I caught the mind-set and got used to the language.”

  “Even though you threw away the chains long ago.” The Maid’s fiery hand touched Bonnie’s. “Speak the truth. Live the truth. Be the truth. Never let the faithless ones change any of those three principles. Remember that you are an Oracle of Fire, as is every faithful follower of our Lord. For all true disciples possess the pure silver, purged of all dross, and the fire of God’s love burns within, an everlasting flame that others, even those who give lip service to the truth, will never comprehend until you are able to pass along that fire from heart to heart.

  “The essence of such an Oracle is spiritual in nature. After you leave this place, you will not create fire with your hands, yet fire will burn in your heart with far more boldness and passion than ever before. As an Oracle, you will look through portals to the hearts of those lost in shadows, you will feel the heavy sadness of their lonely and dark estates, and you will possess crystal-clear vision that will allow you to see what will bring them deliverance from their sorrows. In trying to bring this deliverance, you will say and do things that will make them shake their heads in pity. ‘That poor girl,’ they will say. ‘Her passion has addled her brain.’ Your confidence, they will call arrogance. Your faith, they will call wishful thinking. Your purity, they will call self-righteousness. Your firm standing, they will call pride. Yet you will know, because of that fire within, that they are the ones dwelling in darkness, and you must touch your lighted wick to their darkened lamps.

  “While you are here, I will remind you of these things daily. Not only that, I will train you in the art of the sword, both the physical art and the spiritual.”

  Bonnie felt warmer all over. The Maid’s touch seemed so real, so energizing. And her words made the inner flame burst into an inferno.

  “Have no fear,” The Maid continued. “For as long as you stay here, you will neither hung
er nor thirst, and you will always walk in the light. Since Jehovah has called you to this place, you must believe that all is well.”

  Bonnie let every syllable sink in. They felt peaceful and good as they filtered through, like hot soup poured into a cold belly. After a few silent moments, she nodded. “I am an Oracle of Fire, so I know without a doubt that God will not forsake me in this place. I will rise again.”

  Book 2

  From the Ashes

  Book 2: From the Ashes

  Chapter 1

  Tongues of Fire

  Billy crouched behind a bushy tree, Walter on one side, Ashley on the other, and Elam guarding their backs with a drawn sword. As twilight faded into darkness, they huddled without a sound. It was finally time to make the boldest move yet. It had taken months of preparation, and tonight, with neither Pegasus nor Phoenix rising to reveal their presence, they would launch their plan.

  After being dropped off by Clefspeare, Hartanna, and Thigocia, they had hiked a mile to get to this point. Although the enemy stayed behind a wall of fire, it was impossible to know if they could see anything beyond the flames. If they could perceive the shadow of a dragon, they would likely be on the alert for any activity near the wall, and that might ruin everything.

  For now, the dragons had to stay back and meet them later at the southern rendezvous point, the river’s exit from the flaming wall. Even there, they would need dragons for passenger transport only if their plans didn’t work out. Candle was supposed to fly Merlin to the rendezvous and park it nearby for Billy’s use when they arrived, and Ashley brought a transmitter for calling either the airplane or the base radio station in case they needed help.

  So, with their powerful winged friends absent, it was time for Billy and company to be quiet and wait for the cover of darkness. That would be their greatest ally.

  He peeked between the velvety green leaves. This “ghost lily tree,” as the locals called it, reminded him of the rhododendrons he once hid behind in West Virginia while trying to stay out of the dragon slayer’s sight. Ahead, just ten paces separated them from the towering wall of flames near the northern boundary of the Valley of Shadows. To their right, Twin Falls River, maybe fifty paces away, flowed under the fire and rushed toward the valley for about a quarter mile before plunging from a height of several hundred feet into the land of the shadow people.

  Now that the sound of thundering water crashed into his ears, he couldn’t help but shiver. Although he had grown accustomed to the never-ending frigid weather and frequent snowfalls, the thought of taking that plunge into the domain of shadowy fiends brought an icy chill.

  He reached to his back scabbard and fingered Excalibur’s hilt. It was still there. Why wouldn’t it be? Checking it every few minutes served no reasonable purpose. Yet, somehow touching it settled the goose bumps.

  Ashley whispered, “They know we’re here.”

  “They?” Billy asked, also whispering. “The shadow people?”

  “No. Abraham and Angel.”

  Billy looked at the wall of flames. Of course, it was more than flames. Ever since Abraham had marched around enemy territory four years ago, his and Angel’s life energies had fueled this barrier, a living wall with two embedded souls. “Are they communicating with you?” he asked.

  “In a way. I don’t sense words, only impressions. They are weaker than when I first sensed them. Their energy will soon be spent.”

  Elam joined them in the low bushes. “Do they approve of our mission?”

  “I’m not sure.” The fire billowed upward in Ashley’s wide eyes. “I don’t sense disapproval. It’s more like a contented sigh. They are at peace and happy to see us.”

  “Will they help us?”

  “They will do what they can, but I’m not sure how. I get the feeling that they aren’t able to make a hole in the wall without falling apart completely.”

  “At least we’ll have fired-up cheerleaders,” Walter said. “Can’t hurt.”

  Elam straightened, picked up a shoulder bag, and motioned for the others to join him. Raising his hood over his bushy hair, he said, “I think it’s dark enough. Let’s go.”

  After raising their own hoods, Billy and Walter each hoisted a hefty pack while Ashley picked up two smaller ones, more like leather briefcases than the canvas haversacks the others toted. All four carried swords, either in a belt or in a back scabbard, though none had brought along shields. They already had as much as they could handle.

  With Elam leading the way, they marched over packed snow that marked a deer trail they had scouted out earlier, perfect for a silent approach. Under the cover of trees, some just dry woody skeletons from the perpetual winter and others still green and vibrant, they followed the river’s call.

  Soon, they broke through the forest edge, and, hunched over and jogging, they hurried to a point near the intersection of the flaming wall and the river. A guard on the other side of the river stood next to a weak torch sticking up from the beach sand. He stared but said nothing. He knew the plan. No words. No gestures that might signal a guard on the valley side that something unusual was taking place.

  Billy quietly set down his pack. Walter, Elam, and Ashley did the same with their loads. When Elam’s bag clinked, everyone froze. The metal-on-metal sound had plagued their trial runs, but it couldn’t be helped. Even though the snowboards were part of a backup plan in case the raft failed, they decided to bring them. No matter how confident they were in Plan A, it didn’t make sense to forsake Plan B, even with the risk of the telltale sounds. They had hoped the river’s noise would mask them. Now the theory would meet the test.

  They stared through the flames. No shadows moved. Yet, since plumes of vapor shot up at the river’s entry point, it seemed impossible to know if any guards on the other side had noticed their presence.

  Elam waved his hand, the signal to continue. Billy untied his bag, withdrew a large raft, and unfolded it on the beach. Inflating it would be the first step. Ashley had installed a tiny motorized fan that would draw in surrounding air. Since they couldn’t risk a loud sucking noise, she opted for a quieter, slower fan energized by a battery she had fashioned from local metals.

  Billy flipped the switch and listened to the low whir as it inflated. It would take quite a while, but at least it was quiet.

  Walter tied a rope to a hook on the left side of the raft’s front, one of the guidelines for the parachute. There would be three other ropes, one on the opposite side of the front and two in the back. During their tests, mastering a directed fall had taken longer than any other step, but after so many successful trials, everyone seemed confident. Still, the swirling winds in the valley’s sheltered bowl could be far less predictable than at their test range. This wouldn’t be easy.

  Elam laid four snowboards and eight ski poles in the raft, careful to keep the poles’ sharp tips away from the sides. The metal points had been wrapped with a blanket just to be safe. One hole would end their mission before it began.

  Ashley attached the transmitter to the back of the raft. As she adjusted the eight-inch antenna with one hand, she looked at a signal meter in her other hand, the flames from the wall giving her enough light to see. She flashed an okay sign. The transmitter was working.

  When Walter tied the last guideline in place, the foursome unfolded an oblong parachute, laid it over the raft, and attached it to the lines. It had taken weeks to design the canopy’s shape to allow for precise guidance, and their low-level trial jumps had cost the test pilots a few bumps and bruises, but with each new design, they were able to launch from higher elevations until all four had mastered the skill from the necessary height.

  Elam raised three fingers—three minutes until the raft would be full. After thousands of years of life, his internal clock had become flawless. With Walter and Elam at the front and Billy and Ashley at the rear, they carried the raft to the river and set it in the water.

  All four waded into the icy flow. While the men held the raft in place agains
t the swift current, Ashley threw back a rear corner of the parachute and stowed their packs. The men’s bags were nearly empty now, while Ashley’s still carried the gadgets they would need later. She then crawled under the parachute and stationed herself at the raft’s right rear corner.

  Elam entered next, followed by Walter. With the raft now barely buoyant under the added weight, Billy shoved it toward the center of the river, pushed an anchor into the sandy bed, and jumped in. In the darkness, he had to squirm as he slid under the parachute as quietly as possible. For a moment, Excalibur caught the canopy, but Ashley pried it free and guided him the rest of the way in.

  When he finally settled in his corner, he pulled the parachute over his head and waited in silence with the others. With the wall’s firelight radiating through the protective covering, he could see each taut face. Elam had planned this pause, a time for everyone to slow down and collect themselves.

  He held up a pair of fingers—two minutes. Again, this precision-minded warrior chief would run this mission like clockwork. Yet, the next sequence of events would require guesswork. Five seconds till they hit the fire, a minute and a half to the waterfall, and thirty seconds till they floated safely to the river again. They hoped.

  Safety through the flames, however, was certain. The parachute’s retardant chemicals worked. The first few tests using volunteers who braved the wall with chemically coated cloaks had been painful failures, but Ashley’s newer formulas proved extremely effective. The tests had also drawn Flint’s troops to their attempted penetration points on the south side of Adam’s Marsh. With Valiant and Candle making another attempt an hour ago, they hoped even the shadow people might have migrated from the valley to help guard that region.

  With the current pushing heavily and chunks of ice bumping the rear, the raft rocked back and forth. Elam paid no attention. His head bowed and his eyes closed, he seemed to be praying.