Eye of the Oracle oof-1

by Bryan Davis

  Makaidos nudged the dead giant’s body with his clawed fingers until it rolled faceup. The Naphil flopped its arm on the ground with a heavy thud. Makaidos pricked the arm with a spine on his tail. No reaction, not even a twitch from his massive, six-fingered hand.

  “Are you making sure he’s dead?” the Oracle asked.

  “Yes. I have never been able to kill any of the Nephilim before, so I thought they might be immortal. But when I saw dark mist streaming from this one’s mouth, I hoped his foul soul was being dragged to the abyss.”

  “I torched the other giant,” Thigocia said, “but it barely fazed him, and we both still feel an evil presence.” Keeping her wing over the old man’s balding scalp, she gazed into his eyes. “Can the Ovulum see beyond our senses? Is danger on the horizon?”

  The Oracle held up a shining orb, egg-shaped and about the size of a large pear. As it rested in his palm, scarlet halos emanated from its smooth, glassy surface, painting his withered face in their glow. The rings of color radiated all around the entire company, creating an umbrella of light. “A Watcher is lurking,” he said, “but the Ovulum cannot tell me how close he is.”

  He mopped his forehead with his sleeve and breathed out a long sigh. “The king chose well to have you two guard me. I had my doubts about the female’s experience, but she has certainly proven me wrong.”

  “We are both honored to serve the children of Adam. And you are right about Thigocia.” Makaidos swished his tail toward her. “My father believes she is the most promising young warrior in his kingdom.”

  Thigocia closed her eyes and bowed. “Praise the Maker,” she whispered.

  The old man sighed again. “Yes. . promising.” He held out his hand, allowing a thin pool of water to gather in his palm. “Earthly promises are washing away, as are the lives of Adam’s progeny. Life itself fades like withering grass.” He patted Thigocia on her flank. “And warriors must learn other arts. . at least for a time.”

  Thigocia raised her head. “Other arts? What other ”

  Makaidos snorted a plume of smoke. “I sense a Watcher close at hand! Guard the Oracle!”

  Thigocia wrapped up the old man again, pinning him to her side, and ignited the surrounding grass to create a ring of fire around herself and Makaidos. A mammoth-sized angel with dark red wings appeared out of the thick blanket of clouds and flew to the earth. He stalked around the blazing circle, his radiant robes reflecting the tongues of sizzling fire. “A ring of flames, dragoness?” the angel said. “Not very creative for such a wet, dreary day, but that’s to be expected of a senseless beast like you.”

  Makaidos flicked his tail toward Thigocia. “Do not answer him. He is baiting us.”

  She growled. “I have fought this demon before. We must be on our guard. He is powerful and crafty.”

  The Oracle’s shaggy head pushed through a gap in Thigocia’s wing. “He is drawn to the Ovulum’s power. I can feel his mind connecting with its energy field. There is no use hiding it from him.”

  Thigocia reignited a dampening arc in the protective circle. “But how could he have found the Ovulum’s signal among all the decoys?”

  “The question is irrelevant,” the Oracle replied. “All our energy must be focused on protecting the Ovulum. Its shield must cover the refuge boat. Nothing else matters.”

  Makaidos lowered his voice to a faint rumble. “I will lure him away. I know a ruse he likely has not seen.”

  Thigocia whispered back. “Do not try it! Your father wishes that we stay together.”

  “He wishes that I protect the Oracle and the shield. That wish trumps all others.” Makaidos unfurled his wings and rose into the air.

  “Be careful!” Thigocia shouted. “Other demons might be on the way!”

  Makaidos launched his body upward, beating his wings against the stormy breeze. Sharp droplets stung his eyes as he zoomed toward the billowing clouds. Then, gliding just below the dark ceiling, he watched for the demon to give chase, but the cascade of water blurred his view. He could see the meadow and the prophet’s fig tree orchard, but little else. Even Thigocia was just a smudge in the center of her blazing ring.

  Makaidos took in a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, pushing a narrow stream of fire into the breeze. Flying awkwardly, like a wounded duck ready to plunge to its death, he allowed the flames to sputter into weak sparks. He glanced down again and caught sight of the Watcher. The demon lifted into the air and glided over the fig trees in a low circle, rising with each arc.

  Makaidos laughed to himself. What a fool this demon was to wander into the prophet’s land alone! Was he a scout? A castoff? No matter. That corrupted son of God would soon fry in the abyss.

  A heavy mist swirled around Makaidos. He aimed his ruby eyebeams into the fog. Where was the scoundrel now? Had he figured out the ruse and fled?

  Two huge creatures in gleaming chain mail suddenly dropped from the clouds, shooting black streaks from their fiery eyes. Makaidos dodged the first volley, but the second splashed against his right flank. He collapsed his wings and plummeted headfirst. He had to get away and warn Thigocia before the darkness spell could take hold.

  The burning black resin spread across his scales, climbing toward his face like acidic worms. The field below rushed toward him as a troop of towering demons stalked Thigocia and the prophet. The Ovulum’s scarlet halos pulsed over them like bloody ocean waves.

  Makaidos’s sense of danger blared in his mind. He tried to stretch out his weakened wings. Would they be able to pull him up in time? Maybe he could plow into a row of Watchers and die in a blaze of glory. Why not? With the prophesied storm gaining strength, he was destined to die soon anyway.

  His wings caught the air, leveling his body. After snorting a barrage of fiery cannonballs, he curled into a sphere and crashed into the evil squadron. As his body rolled, demon after demon toppled over. When he finally came to a stop, he looked up. Samyaza, the leader of the Watchers, towered over him, a derisive smirk spreading contempt across his face.

  The Seraph laughed. “A remarkable show, young prince. Your father would be proud.”

  Makaidos strained to speak. “He will be proud. . when I blow you. . into a million blazing pieces.”

  Samyaza kicked Makaidos in the belly. Pain streaked through his body, radiating all the way to his tail. The black worms crawled over his eyes and drew a curtain of darkness across his vision. His ears burned as Samyaza’s mocking voice pierced his brain. “When we kill the Oracle, his shield will collapse, and we will destroy the refuge boat. Now, give in to the darkness. Everything you have worked for is lost.”

  As the darkness spell swallowed Makaidos, doubt and despair flooded his mind. He moaned softly. Why had his father trusted him to protect the Oracle? He and Thigocia were too young, too inexperienced to stand against such powerful fallen angels. He had been a fool to take the assignment, too proud to have any doubt in his abilities. Samyaza was right. All was lost.

  As he drifted toward unconsciousness, the sound of bestial roars and a flurry of wings sounded in his ears. He released a long sigh, perhaps his last breath. Surely the battle would be over soon. Thigocia would die valiantly. The feeble Oracle would put up a futile last stand and then be crushed by the cruel Watchers. And no one would hear their cries for help.

  Heat flared across Makaidos’s body, and a soothing voice awakened his mind.

  “Makaidos? Can you hear me?”

  Makaidos squirmed. Father’s voice? How could that be? He turned his ears to listen. The voice caressed his senses like the sun’s gentle beams on a spring morning.

  “Awake, my son. You have fought well. Thigocia told me of your heroics, and she is now burning away the darkness. Take in her fire. Breathe the warmth through your scales. Restore your strength and renew your confidence. When I chose you to guard the Oracle, I chose well. You have made me proud.”

  A flash of heat melted the blackness away from Makaidos’s eyes. Two dragons stood at his side. The tawny one, Thigocia,
breathed a stream of fire at his body, melting away the black resin. Arramos, his father, stood at his side, his magnificent red scales reflecting the flames.

  Makaidos struggled to his feet, pushing with his tail to balance his wobbly frame. The sky seemed darker, the clouds, thicker, and rain continued to pelt the meadow. The glow from the Ovulum rings had vanished. “The Oracle!” Makaidos cried. “Is he safe?”

  Arramos lowered his eyes and shook his head. “Samyaza killed him and destroyed the Ovulum’s shield. Clirkus is flying his body back to his people.”

  Makaidos slumped his wings to the ground. “Then all is lost. We have failed.”

  Arramos curved his neck, positioning his head directly in front of Makaidos. “Not yet. Hilidan and the others are chasing the Watchers, and I will join them. There is no time to lose, but I wanted to make sure of your safety first.”

  “My safety? What about the Oracle’s safety? You would have done well to choose other guardians for him. We failed you.”

  “On the contrary, you wounded enough Watchers to allow Thigocia to fend them off until we arrived.” Arramos stretched out his tail and prodded Makaidos’s shoulder. “Spread your wings, Son, so Thigocia can finish her work.”

  Makaidos obeyed. A new surge of heat massaged the more sensitive coat under one of his wings. It stung, but each second of burning away the darkness seemed to sharpen his mind.

  “We had been tracking them,” Arramos continued, “and we were patrolling nearby, close enough to sense the danger. Now that the Watchers have come out of hiding, we can finish them off for good.”

  “For good?” Makaidos bared his teeth, grimacing at the pain of Thigocia’s healing massage. “But the Oracle is dead, and the shield is gone! What good can possibly come from this disaster?”

  Arramos thumped his tail on the ground. “Makaidos, the Oracle knew he would die today. All is coming to pass exactly as he had foreseen, and the end of the Watchers is at hand. Now that the shield is down, you and Thigocia must fly immediately to the refuge boat and protect it while we destroy the rest of the demons.”

  Thigocia turned off her fiery jets. “Protect the boat? Are you sure we can do it?”

  “We would serve you better chasing the Watchers,” Makaidos said, snorting a stream of sparks. “We are both faster than Hilidan.”

  Arramos spat a fireball into the air. “No!”

  Makaidos backed away, trembling.

  “They will split up,” Arramos continued, “and we will not be able to track them all. If any demon eludes us, he will surely go straight to the boat. We need two guardians there, and you must leave now!”

  Makaidos unfurled his wings again. Bowing his head, he spoke softly. “If that is your will, Father.” With his gaze on the ground, he noticed the Ovulum, now dark and smeared with mud. He scooped it up in his clawed hand and let the rain wash away the grime. As the scarlet glass cleared, the image of a man’s face appeared deep within the crystal, a ruddy tint blushing his wrinkled cheeks. The man’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Makaidos closed his claws around it. Very strange! But it was a mystery that would have to wait.

  He lifted into the air, nodding at Thigocia, and without another word the two young dragons soared into the weeping sky.

  Japheth smeared a line of pitch across the joint between two planks. . the last two planks. Checking hundreds of seams had taken all day, but it had to be done. The huge boat sat in a rocky trench, untested for buoyancy or leaks. Only water, and plenty of it, could prove if the last hundred years of labor amounted to anything more than the biggest waste of time the world had ever known. He, for one, didn’t want to risk the lives of his whole family by slacking off for a single hour, especially now that the final day, the seventh day of the prophecy, was at hand.

  Japheth ambled across a sagging rope-and-sapling bridge from the main deck to the rim of the trench and then into the shade of one of the dozen or so tall sycamores surrounding the ark. After wiping his hands with a fibrous rag, he picked up a flask and guzzled a long drink. Ah! He mopped his dripping chin with his sleeve. Water never tasted so good!

  Taking his rag and his flask, he walked out onto the bridge again and peered down at his brother Shem about thirty feet below. The main door to the boat, which they called “Eve’s Door,” was wider than an elephant and as tall as a giraffe. It lay open inside the trench next to Shem, like a ramp awaiting more cargo to tromp aboard. A tense crease dug into Shem’s brow as he ran his hand over the hull.

  Japheth reached his flask over Shem and poured out a trickle, hoping it would. . Yes! Right on his head!

  Shem leaned back and held out his open palm.

  “No, it’s not raining yet,” Japheth said, laughing.

  Shem shook his head, running his fingers through his gray-speckled hair. “It will be soon. You’d better finish those seams.” He turned back to his work, his brow once again furrowing.

  “My seams are done.” Japheth crouched on the swaying bridge to get a better look at the joint his brother was checking. “Will it hold?”

  Shem dug his fingertip into the crack. “It’s sealed underneath.” He clambered up a tall ladder and hoisted himself out of the trench. Now standing on the land side of the bridge, he peeled away a shred of dried pitch from his hand. “I think that’s all. We’re finally ready.”

  Japheth scrambled off the bridge and handed Shem the rag. “Then why the long face?” He nodded toward a bank of boiling clouds spreading across the darkening horizon. “It’s coming, but we’ll be fine.”

  Shem wiped his hands, meticulously stripping pitch from each finger. “Exactly. Rain is coming.” He gestured toward the boat with his head. “Inside that hull, hundreds of hooves are trampling straw on a thousand cords of gopher wood.” He laid the rag over his shoulder and began counting on his fingers. “We have a cantankerous camel that spits at Father whenever he walks by, a parrot that never stops shouting, ‘Kill the skunks!’ two dogs that shed enough hair to make wigs for all of humanity, and a pair of elephants that are always ” Shem grimaced. “Well, let’s just say that I brought an extra shovel and a stack of empty bags.”

  “Prolific pachyderms?” Japheth pinched his nose and laughed. “But even a big stink is no surprise. We knew the stalls would get filled with ”

  “Shhh!” Shem grabbed Japheth’s shoulder. “Father is coming.”

  Noah exited a wide door in the main quarters on the top deck, “Adam’s door,” as they called it, and ambled across the bridge, brushing a sticky splotch of gray hair off his forehead with his sleeve. “Fool camel,” he grumbled. “You’d think I’d have learned by now.”

  Japheth elbowed Shem’s ribs and smiled, but Shem’s frown deepened.

  “Father,” Shem said, stroking his beard, “we have a problem.”

  Their father’s gaze lifted toward the darkening skies. “Still no dragons?”

  “No sign of them,” Shem replied. “I have been watching all day.”

  Japheth copied his brother’s serious aspect, forcing himself to frown as he cleared his throat. “I have a comfortable stall ready for them on our level, better than my own quarters, but I haven’t seen a plume of smoke or a scaly wing anywhere.”

  The old man clasped Japheth on the shoulder. “They will come. God promised at least two of every breathing creature, so the dragons will be here before the flood can sweep them away.”

  Japheth held out his hand. Tiny droplets moistened his palm and began to form a pool. Rain. Just as his father had prophesied. Ever since God had called out to Noah by name, he had been in close conversation with the Almighty, so why doubt him now? The dragons would come.

  Japheth shook the water from his hand. “Shall we untie the bridge? The dragons could fly to the main deck.”

  Noah shook his head. “Your brother has not returned.”

  “Ham is gone again?” Japheth glanced into the trench at the cargo door’s rope and pulley system, still broken from the recent gorilla incident. “Where did he go?
We have to get the door fixed. We won’t survive long if we don’t get it closed.”

  “To the market for more grapes. It seems that those odd cat-like creatures” Noah encircled each of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger “the big-eyed ones that came from the South yesterday, are quite fond of them. And I wanted more grapes anyway for seed harvesting. When the flood ends, I want to plant a vineyard and ” The popping noise of cart wheels on pebbles interrupted him.

  “Speak of the devil,” Japheth whispered to Shem. “Our brother has arrived.”

  “And check out his two minions,” Shem whispered back. “They look. . well. . unnatural.”

  Japheth scanned the ox-drawn cart, filled to overflowing with bunches of purple and green grapes. Sitting at the back with their bare feet hanging near the path, two women dressed in black glanced all around, their lips thin and taut.

  When the ox halted, the shorter woman jumped off and quickly smoothed out her dress, pulling and tugging to cover as much skin as she could. Ham, his muscles flexing as he strained on the ox’s harness, cast a glance at his father and nodded, then turned to unload the grapes. “I have done as you asked, Father,” he said, keeping his eyes on the cart. “I have taken a wife. Her name is Naamah, Tubalcain’s sister.”

  “Tubalcain?” Noah’s teeth clenched, his face reddening. “You married in the line of Cain? Why would you bring such shame upon our family?”

  Ham carried a load of grapes and stopped in front of his father, his face expressionless. “You said to find a wife for procreating. You didn’t ask to approve her genealogy.” He hoisted the grapes higher in his arms and lumbered toward the boat, calling without looking back. “We met the other woman at the marketplace. She seeks an audience with you.”

  Naamah grabbed as many grape clusters as she could and followed Ham, glancing briefly at the other female passenger before scurrying to catch up. She and Ham balanced their loads across the sapling bridge and disappeared through Adam’s door.