Eye of the Oracle oof-1

by Bryan Davis

  As she marched on, Paili’s gentle hum lilting behind her, the trench sank into a darker region of the cavern. The air grew cold, and the light faded, almost too dim to continue, but as they rounded a curve, new light poured through tiny holes in the floor up ahead. She stooped and signaled for Paili to join her.

  The little girl huddled against her side. “Cold!”

  “Stay close to me.” Mara hugged Paili and pointed at the holes. “I thought the light meant that the magma river flowed right under us. I guess it doesn’t, or it’d be a lot warmer in here.” She tapped on the rocks and listened. “Sounds solid enough.”

  Paili wrapped both arms around Mara’s waist. “Go back. . I scared.”

  “It’s okay.” Mara pushed on the ground with her free hand. The rocky layer bent downward, and small cracks etched jagged streaks in every direction. “Hmmm. . Maybe it’s not so solid after all.” Grunting under the Paili-sized load, Mara pivoted on her knees and headed back. “I think we’d better ”

  Suddenly the floor crumbled away. “Whoooaaa!” Mara slid into a gaping hole with Paili still latched to her waist. Mara clawed at the sloping sides until her fingers snagged something solid, keeping her from sliding any farther. Pain rifled through her arms as she and Paili dangled over a seemingly bottomless pit.

  “Paili!” she screamed. “Hang on!”

  Chapter 7

  The Abyss

  Paili’s arms tightened around Mara’s waist, nearly squeezing her breath away. Grunting and pulling, Mara inched higher. Ignoring her throbbing shoulder, she lunged upward, and her fingers groped for a new handhold until they finally found a sturdy ridge. As she dragged their bodies higher, streams of light flowed past her eyes like windblown fog, filtering into the slope and disappearing. Sounds of snapping arose from below, like hungry crocodiles vaulting to catch hold of her feet. Mara lunged again and caught the upper lip of the pit with one hand, then the other.

  “Paili! Climb out!”

  Paili clambered up Mara’s back and jumped from her shoulders to solid ground. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed Mara behind her upper arms and pulled much harder than seemed possible for a little girl. Mara dug her feet into the slope and scrambled to safety, then rolled to the ground, puffing.

  Paili laid a hand on Mara’s cheek. “You okay?”

  Mara rubbed her aching shoulder. “I think I’m okay.” She sat up and looked her in the eye. “What about you?”

  “I. . bleeding again.”

  Mara scanned her body. “Where?”

  Paili showed her a cut on her elbow. “Here.”

  Mara eyed it closely. “It’s not too bad.” She looked over Paili’s shoulder at the pit a mere two steps away. She pushed Paili gently to the side and crawled slowly to the edge.

  The ground near the pit seemed sturdy now, so she inched close and peered into the hole. Streams of light rose and fell as if something down below inhaled and exhaled radiant energy. With each rhythmic pulse, some of the light disappeared into spots on the wall, sucked in by some kind of mysterious force.

  Mara slid her fingers down the side and touched one of the spots. It felt smooth and hard, like a polished stone. While probing the surface, she caught the edge, and the stone shifted. Another stream of light flowed up, weaved between her fingers, and disappeared into the stone. She pried it loose and laid it in her palm. Fitting snugly between the heel of her hand and the base of her fingers, a multifaceted jewel glittered at her, a faint beam of light emanating from one side.

  Paili touched it with her fingertip. “Pretty!”

  Mara closed her fist. “Yes, but what is it?”

  Paili shrugged her shoulders. As Mara rose to her feet, a low moan drifted up from the pit. Both girls jumped back, clutching each other. A new chill ran across Mara’s skin, and she inched farther away.

  Paili hung on to her elbow, shivering, while Mara stroked her hair. “I think we’ll look for magnetite somewhere else, okay?”

  “Far. . away.”

  After several more steps backwards, Mara turned and held Paili’s hand. “If we tell Morgan about the pit and the gem, maybe we won’t have to make quota today.”

  “Fig cakes?” Paili asked.

  Mara strode forward, peering through the dimness. “Let’s not push it. I’m just hoping we don’t get whipped.”

  Mara and Paili slid into the warm spring, each girl finding a place to sit so that the soothing water covered her dirty, scraped shoulders.

  With a flickering lantern at her feet, Morgan sat on a rocky ledge next to the pool, holding the gem in her fingers and examining it carefully. “A deep pit, you say? How deep?”

  Mara reached for her outer tunic and pulled it into the bath with her. “I couldn’t see the bottom.” She scrubbed her tunic in the bubbling water. “It was strange,” she said, looking up at Morgan. “Light streamed up and down, and some of it got sucked into that gem.”

  “Very interesting.” Morgan drew the gem up to her eyes. “Did you notice anything else?”

  “I did.” Mara turned to Paili and examined the whip marks on her back. “Oh, Paili! How could Nabal be so cruel to a little girl?” She squeezed water from a sponge, gently sprinkling the wounds as she looked up again at Morgan. “Did you see this?”

  Morgan pressed her lips together and nodded. “Nabal will be terminated. We have a new giant ready to replace him actually a third giant we will call Nabal.”

  “A third Nabal?”

  “I’m afraid so. The first one died the night after he whipped you. But they are identical, so I fear the new one will be just as stupid as the first two. Still, if I show him the remains of his predecessor, perhaps he will not be as cruel.”

  “Wow! I didn’t even realize you switched them.” Mara shivered, but it was a comforting shiver. “Anyway, we did notice something else, a horrible moaning sound, like someone down in the pit was terribly sad, like maybe he was lost.”

  Morgan clenched the gem so tightly her knuckles turned white, but her voice remained calm. “Did it speak any words you could understand?”

  Mara shook her head. “We didn’t stay long. It was pretty scary.”

  “I quite understand.” Morgan nodded toward the tunnel that led to their sleeping quarters and held up the corners of two large cloths. “Here’s a sheet for each of you. After you wash out your clothes, hang them in the breezeway and go straight to bed. Naamah will bring dinner to you later.”

  Paili clapped her hands. “Fig cakes!”

  Morgan knelt by the pool and laid her palm on Mara’s head, her voice so soft it was almost drowned by the bubbling spring. “Take care not to tell Mardon about the pit. I know how important Paili is to you” her eyes turned fiery red “and how important Acacia was to you.”

  Raising a lantern to light the way, Mara led Paili back to their hovel, a chest-high dugout in the stone wall. With her free hand clinging to her wrapped sheet, she ducked low and climbed down into their sanctum. Although their little sand-stuffed mats were no thicker than a finger, when Mara tucked herself into her individual cleft in the rock, she always felt cozy, far removed from stupid giants and their stinging whips, glad to forget about mining magnetite in stifling heat, at least for the night.

  She lay on her mat and tucked her sheet around her body. “Are you warm, Paili?”

  “No,” came the voice from the other cleft. “Hungry.”

  “It shouldn’t be long. Morgan promised ”

  “Time to eat,” a sweet voice called from the corridor. “I hear someone wanted fig cakes.” Naamah squeezed into the hovel and handed each girl a bread bowl filled with orange mash. A brown fig cake floated on top like a hunk of granite bobbing in a magma river.

  “Enjoy the treat,” Naamah sang as she left the hovel.

  Mara picked up her cake and let the mash drip from its edge. Naamah had never prepared appetizing meals, but this was better than nothing and more appetizing than a lot of the gunk they had eaten lately.

  After several min
utes of quiet chewing, Mara pinched the last bite of her bread bowl and threw it toward a fist-sized hole in the wall at the back side of their dugout. “Don’t forget to save a piece for Qatan!” she called.

  Paili mumbled through her mouthful of food. “He not hungry.”

  “Come on, Paili. Even a mouse needs to eat.”

  Paili swallowed and sang out, “Story now!”

  Mara drooped her shoulders. “Oh, Paili, I’m so tired tonight, I don’t think I can ” Mara suddenly lifted her head. “Do you hear that humming?”

  “Naamah,” Paili said.

  “Whew! Her timing is perfect again.”

  Their petite mistress crawled down into the dugout with layers of clothes draped over her arm. “They’re dry,” she said, handing each of them their inner and outer garments.

  Mara slipped on her inner tunic and folded her outer dress into a pillow.

  “Would you girls like a song tonight?” Naamah asked.

  “Song!” Paili chirped.

  Mara searched Naamah’s eyes. What could be the reason for such a rare treat? “Sure. Why not?”

  Naamah patted Mara’s folded dress. “Lie down, and I will sing you to sleep.”

  Mara laid her head on her dress and closed her eyes, letting her mind relax. She might as well enjoy the song instead of questioning Naamah’s sincerity. With all the new happenings of the day, she needed something to help her unwind, and she wanted to be well rested for her new job in the morning.

  Naamah’s smooth contralto crooned in Mara’s ears.

  Alone in caves through darkest nights,

  A bitter girl is mining ore,

  With pick and bucket gathering rocks,

  Confined to chains forevermore.

  No life, no love, no mother’s arms,

  Forever empty you will yearn.

  The friends you love will fade to ash,

  And you will see them fall and burn.

  These caverns held the judging flow

  Where floods awaited God’s command

  To spring into the worlds above

  And drown the souls who dared to stand.

  So now these caves are empty tombs

  For hopeless slaves who chisel stones;

  Far worse than death as on their knees

  These ghosts unearth their sisters’ bones.

  Relinquish now all hope for grace,

  For grace and mercy spew their scorn

  At girls who live and die in caves

  And those who dwell as underborns.

  Naamah repeated the verses, each one filling Mara with sorrow. She couldn’t protest. Every word was true. There really was no hope, and her only real friend was gone forever. Grace didn’t exist. Mercy and hope were merely words in Mardon’s dictionary, flat and lifeless.

  As the lyrics passed through Mara’s mind a third time, the song faded into oblivion, replaced by a fuzzy, dream-like voice. She knew she had begun dreaming, but as the dream progressed, it grew so real, she lost all consciousness of anything but the image before her.

  “We’d better go,” Acacia said. “If Morgan finds us, we’re goners.”

  Mara stuffed a small loaf of bread into her pocket and handed one to Acacia. “I’m not leaving without enough food. Paili won’t get her rations if she doesn’t come to the dining chamber.”

  Acacia held out the loaf. “She can’t eat this much.”

  “Who knows how long she’ll be sick?” Mara pushed the loaf into Acacia’s pocket. “I can’t risk coming back to get more.”

  “The bell for roll call already rang.” Acacia pulled Mara’s arm. “Let’s go!”

  Mara pulled back. “I have to get the bread to Paili!”

  “Roll call first, then we’ll sneak out and feed her.”

  The two girls ran through the tunnel, the lantern in Acacia’s hand guiding the way. After riding the platform down to the labor level, they hustled to their places in line, side by side.

  Nabal glared at them and raised his whip. “Where were you?”

  “Tending to Paili,” Mara said. “She’s sick.”

  Nabal, towering at least four feet taller than any of the girls, glanced over at Paili’s empty place in line. He cracked the whip across Mara’s shoulder, tearing her skin.

  “Owwww!” Mara dropped to her knees. As she fell, her loaf tumbled out of her pocket.

  Nabal’s eyes widened. Acacia snatched up the loaf and took a bite from the end. “I was hungry,” she said, mumbling through her mouthful.

  “That was your loaf?” Nabal asked. “Where did you get it?”

  “The pantry,” Acacia said casually. She pulled out a loaf from her own pocket. “Want one?”

  “You’re not allowed in the pantry!” Nabal roared, raising his whip again. “I will ”

  “Stop!” a new voice interrupted. “What’s the problem here?”

  Everyone turned. Morgan, her brow bent low, strode toward the line. Mara rose to her feet, trying to hide her pain.

  Nabal lowered his whip and pointed at Acacia. “A food thief, Mistress.”

  Morgan held out her hands, and Acacia dropped the loaves into them. “You stole the bread?” Morgan asked.

  Acacia nodded. Morgan walked slowly past her and touched the wound on Mara’s shoulder as it bled through her outer tunic.

  “Alone?” Morgan rubbed Mara’s blood between her finger and thumb.

  Acacia’s eyes grew wide. She spoke quickly. “Nabal is a fool. He hit Mara when he should have hit me.” She pressed her thumb against her chest. “I stole the bread. I should be punished.”

  Morgan brushed breadcrumbs from the material around Mara’s pocket. “I see.” Taking Nabal’s whip, she wound it up around her hand, her gaze locked on Mara. “Nabal, dismiss the laborers to the trenches and come with me. Bring these two girls with you.”

  “Get to work!” Nabal bellowed. He then grabbed Mara and Acacia by their wrists and followed Morgan as she headed down a sloping tunnel. Nabal’s powerful grip seemed to squeeze the blood from Mara’s arm and shoot it up to her head until her brain pounded against her skull.

  Morgan finally exited the tunnel through a tall, wide door. Nabal half dragged the girls through it and stood them on a spacious ledge that overlooked a deep, fiery chasm. As Mara blinked at the bright magma river below, she swallowed, hoping she didn’t look too scared.

  Morgan eyed them both. She tore off Acacia’s coif and ran her fingers through the long tresses that fell to her waist. “If it wasn’t for the length of your hair” she yanked Mara’s coif away, letting her hair fall to her shoulders “and for Mara’s wound, I wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart.”

  Morgan hooked her arm around Mara’s elbow and pulled her to the edge of the cliff. “Stand here,” she ordered.

  Mara bent her knees, wobbling in place and hugging herself as she kept her eyes on Acacia.

  In the same way, Morgan walked Acacia to the edge, then, keeping hold of her arm, she glared at Mara. “Your friend was ready to take whatever punishment you deserved. Do you think that’s a noble gesture?”

  Mara couldn’t answer. She trembled harder and began crying.

  “I’ll show you how noble it is. Watch and learn.” Morgan released her grip on Acacia and shoved her with both hands, sending her over the ledge.

  Acacia plummeted toward the river of fire, her arms flailing and her cries piercing Mara’s ears. “Maraaaaa!”

  Her body splashed in the magma, silencing her forever. Mara fell to her knees and sobbed, coughing, heaving, until she collapsed and fainted.

  “Acacia!” Mara yelled, sitting up in bed. She bumped her head on the stone that covered her dugout.

  “Mara?” Paili called out. “You okay?”

  Mara rubbed her scalp. “I’m all right. Go back to sleep.” She slid out of bed, but as she tiptoed for the dugout opening, a scratching noise arose from the wall somewhere behind her. Spinning on the balls of her feet, she faced the direction of the sound and stared into the dar
kness, listening intently.

  Scritch, scritch.

  Mara inched closer. Could it be Qatan? She had never seen the little scavenger, but the bread she saved for him always disappeared. And now, even if she could stay quiet enough not to spook him, it was too dark to catch a glimpse of either whisker or tail.

  A wisp of light passed by the inside of the hole, fast and fleeting. Lowering herself to hands and knees, Mara scooted quietly toward the base of the wall. She held her breath and imagined the layout of the caverns in her mind’s eye, but when she tried to draw the room just beyond her hovel, she couldn’t think of what might be there. She had always assumed it was an unused cave, the kind of place Qatan might want for his home.

  The light came again, and this time it stayed, illuminating the hole in the wall.

  Scritch, scritch.

  A pair of fingers poked out, reaching, probing. Finally, an entire hand emerged, and the index finger swept Mara’s bread morsel into its grip. As the hand slowly pulled back, Mara lunged forward. “Wait!”

  The hand stopped for a second, then slid back farther.

  “Wait!” Mara repeated. “Who are you?”

  The hand disappeared. Mara pounded her fist on the wall. “Who’s there?”

  A muffled male voice replied. “My name is Elam.”

  “Elam?” Mara laid her cheek on the floor and spoke directly into the hole. “My name’s Mara. Are you one of the brick-making boys?”

  “I am a brick maker,” came the reply. “But I am the only one.”

  “I heard there were at least two. What happened to the other boy?”

  His reply seeped through like a quiet breeze. “We don’t need as many bricks as before, so she terminated him.”

  “She? Do you mean Morgan?”

  “Yes. She told Nabal to beat him with his whip until he died, and they made me watch.”

  “How awful!”

  “I still hear his screams in my nightmares.”

  Mara sighed. “I know what you mean.” The image of Acacia flailing toward the molten river flickered through her mind again. She shook her head to expel the unwanted memories. “How did you learn to speak so well? Most of the girl laborers can hardly speak at all.”