Eye of the Oracle oof-1
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Merlin released his grasp. “If you would stop obsessing over your honor, young man, you would easily discover what you have been commissioned to learn.”
“Commissioned?” Edward chuckled nervously. “What are you talking about?”
“There is no need to pretend. I have already discerned how the king is using you as his surreptitious eyes and ears, and I am troubled by your dual purposes.”
“I have no dual purposes.” Edward closed his fingers tightly around the candlestone. “I am bound to serve His Majesty, and none other.”
“If that’s true,” Merlin said, pointing at Edward’s fist, “then do what I say and leave the controversy surrounding the dragons to me. I understand them far better than you do, and I have a plan to save them and Arthur. For the sake of the kingdom, stand down from this spying mission.”
Edward tightened his jaw, etching his words with anger. “I will take the gem to your quarters, as you have requested, but you do not have the authority to countermand the king’s orders. No one has more authority than the king.”
Merlin sighed. “And that is where you lose your way.” As the flurry of Clefspeare’s wings sent gusts across their faces, Merlin gripped Edward’s wrist again. “Don’t make rash decisions while the world is dark. Wait for the light to make all things clear.”
Edward didn’t answer. He just glared at Merlin, every muscle in his face as taut as a bowstring.
Merlin climbed aboard Clefspeare and shouted. “To Makaidos’s cave, my friend! And hurry!”
Chapter 4
Raising Dragons
As Makaidos flew toward the entrance of his cave, danger scraped his senses. Goliath’s brooding anger rose from the ground like the odor of a steaming tar pit, a heavy, simmering wrath that longed to lash out and destroy. Yet, the anger seemed to restrain itself, as if waiting for an opportune time to strike. Ever since the spirits of the Nephilim stole Goliath’s mind, he had become perverted, bestial. He seemed anxious to kill anything that stood against his plan to rule the dragon kingdom. But what of Roxil? She seemed possessed by a misguided idealism, not a warped spirit.
Makaidos landed and faced the dark cave. His eldest son waited inside, and perhaps his eldest daughter as well. Was there still hope? Could they be rescued from their respective demons? Maybe. He had one last idea to try.
He folded his wings and ducked inside the cave’s low entryway, turning on his eyebeams as he glanced around the inner chamber. Goliath sat next to the wall, Roxil at his side and King Arthur lying at his feet, motionless.
Makaidos focused the beams directly on Goliath’s eyes. “You could not battle me yourself, my son? You had to bring your sister to help?”
Goliath blinked and lowered his head below the beams. “I will not harm you. I am here to keep my word.” He rolled the king face up. “Arthur is alive but unconscious.”
“I see. An unconscious king cannot bear witness to your crime.” Makaidos reared up, exposing the most vulnerable part of his underbelly. “I have trained Roxil well, so the two of you should be enough to do the deed. I will not resist.”
“Father!” Roxil slapped her tail against the wall of the cave. “Are you implying that I will help Goliath kill you? Have you no faith in me at all?”
“Faith in you?” Makaidos narrowed his eyes. “Did you and Goliath pass through a covenant veil?”
“You know we didn’t.” Roxil swung her head to the side. “Arramos joined us together. The ways of the covenant veil are the ways of the past.”
“Then you have answered your own question.” Makaidos lowered himself to all fours again. “Your unholy alliance with a demon-possessed mate has incinerated my faith in you. Since Goliath is against me, and you stand with him, you are against me as well.”
Goliath raised a wing and draped it over Roxil. “We are not going to kill you. Roxil insisted on coming to ensure my safety from outside interference and from you. As old as you are, I still doubt that I could defeat you in single combat. Only Clefspeare is your equal in battle.”
“Now I am sure it is a Naphil who speaks,” Makaidos said, “for you know that my age has weakened my skills. In order to fool your mate into coming, you have chosen to lie, and lying is the fruit of the dragon prototype. His Eden curse made him a legless and wingless serpent, and I thought that ended all dragon deception forever. Obviously, I was wrong.”
Roxil slapped the wall again. “How can you possibly believe what you are saying about Goliath? Our war is against the human race, not each other!”
“I believe what I am saying because I sense danger. If Goliath intends no harm, then where does the danger originate?”
Roxil’s eyebeams flicked on and pointed toward the cave entrance. “I have also sensed danger ever since I arrived. A human must be near, probably someone who intends to rescue his king.”
Makaidos’s beams crossed over Roxil’s, creating a diamond outlined in scarlet. “I should feel no danger from any human who would rescue his king. I helped save them all from the barbarians.”
“They merely used you.” Roxil doused her beams. “They will turn on you whenever it is convenient.”
Makaidos rubbed a foreleg against his tender underside. “Humans have had convenient opportunities to strike a blow for many years, even centuries from my days of weakness in the ark, to the nights I have slept at Merlin’s side in the wilderness as he taught me the ways of his messiah, the ways of love, grace, and mercy.” He flashed his eyebeams at Roxil. “Once again you have acted rashly because you know so little, yet think you know so much.”
Makaidos bowed toward Goliath. “You have captured her heart, my son. Congratulations. She has forsaken all reason and will believe you no matter what you say or do.” He spread out his wings, exposing his underbelly again. “Now, do what you must. Dying in your fire is better than living under your rule, especially when you have stolen the heart of my precious daughter. Following in the footsteps of the human messiah, I will not resist. I give my life gladly, hoping that Roxil will finally see the difference between a loving father and a deceiving usurper.”
“Father!” Roxil growled. “Listen to yourself! Do not play the fool to win me back to your home! I stand with my mate, no matter what outrageous grandstanding you do.”
Goliath snorted. “You will not die at my hand.” He turned his beams toward the back of the cave. Two men leaped from the darkness. Devin plunged a sword into Makaidos’s belly, and Palin thrust his into Roxil’s. Both men twisted their swords, then sprang away, dodging the dragons’ gushing fluids.
Roxil teetered. Her eyes widened. First glancing at Goliath, then at Makaidos, she toppled forward. Makaidos fell at her side, pressing his scaly jaws against hers.
As his vision faded, Makaidos watched Goliath. He tried to speak, but he felt his life seeping away.
Goliath pushed Arthur’s unconscious body. “Take your king, Devin, and be on your way. Tell Morgan that our deal is complete. I will make no more contracts with her.”
“As you wish.” Devin helped Palin hoist Arthur over his back, and they shuffled out of the cave.
As Makaidos closed his eyes, Roxil’s faint voice crept into his ear. “Why, Goliath? Why?”
Goliath laughed. “As our father said. No witnesses. You refused to allow the Nephilim to enter your mind, so you could not be trusted.”
Darkness shrouded Makaidos’s vision. As he sighed his last breath, his daughter spoke again, her voice failing. “Father. . I am so. . so. .” She exhaled and breathed no more.
Makaidos pushed his wing over her body, then darkness washed over his mind.
Sapphira plunged headfirst through the dark, cold air in the mysterious pit, keeping the torch at the bottom firmly set in her sights. She felt no fear. The warmth from the Ovulum seemed to radiate courage into her heart.
As the torch drew closer, the darkness melted, turning the night skies into the fullness of day. Her descent slowed, and her body turned upright, as if someone had pushed an in
visible hand underneath her. Finally, she landed next to her torch, both feet thudding against a hard surface, jarring her spine. Her momentum threw her into a roll, but when she came to a stop, she quickly leaped to her feet and hurried back to her landing point.
She picked up the torch and whispered to the flame. “No need for you, now.”
Setting a hand on her hip, she turned from side to side. With a dry fountain to her left and the smashed remains of crates and marketplace carts to her right, this village seemed very familiar ruined, but familiar. In her mind’s eye, she painted in the missing pieces, reassembling the market and filling the fountain with gushing water. She added people, young and old, men and women in colorful clothes
Sapphira snapped her fingers. That was it! This is Shinar! She spun around and gazed at a low rise, looking for the tower, but there was nothing at the top, just a huge gap. She scurried to the crest and peered across the empty expanse. Obviously this was where the tower stood before the museum dropped through the portal.
As she walked toward the center of the tower mound, a sense of grief grew so strong she couldn’t bear to continue. Memories of Acacia again flashed into her mind her frightened eyes, her terrified scream.
Sapphira hustled back to the edge of the crest and looked out over the city. The familiar idols and remnants of the tar pits dotted the landscape. Yet, not a soul stirred anywhere. Setting one hand on her hip again, she scratched her head with the butt end of her torch. How could this be? How could Shinar get physically moved from its place so many centuries ago and show up here? Wherever here was.
As she searched for signs of life, the sun stung her eyes, but she caught a glimpse of a shadow, a human shadow, moving far down the vacant street, back where the laborers used to pile bricks from the kilns. Pulling down her veil, she ran toward a gap between two idols. The stacked stone faces that had once collected votive gifts of flowers and jewels now presided over a broken marble floor with only crushed rocks and mud to appease the goddesses.
Now back at the street level, Sapphira trotted, trying to fix her gaze on the spot she had noticed movement, but her veil flapped against her face, obstructing her vision. As she slowed to furtive tiptoeing, she straightened the veil. Whatever made that shadow had to be around somewhere. But where?
She kicked a pile of crushed rocks, scattering dust around her ankles. The high portico that had once covered the brick-making area had collapsed. Broken beams and marble lay in heaps on the dirt floor. The kilns were now punched through on every side, as though an army of invaders had marched in and ruined everything in sight. Red and gray bricks lay strewn and broken, some pieces thrown as far away as the opposite side of the dirt street. With her courage still flowing, she called out, “Is anyone here?”
A gentle breeze brushed her ears, but nothing else. “Is anyone here?” she called again.
This time, a sharp voice replied. “Who are you?”
Sapphira took a step back. Should she answer? What if this person knew Morgan? Could she risk letting him know her name? She cleared her throat and spoke in her sweetest tone. “I am a lost traveler from another land. Is there anyone here who can help me find my way?”
A head bobbed up from behind one of the kilns, a young male with ragged brown hair. When he caught sight of her, his eyes widened. “Are you a girl?”
Sapphira glanced down at her body and straightened her frumpy dress. “Isn’t it obvious?”
The boy stepped out from behind the kiln. “I guess so. I haven’t seen very many. Only grown women, really. No one as young as you.”
Sapphira untied her coif and pulled it off, letting her hair tumble down. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she walked closer. The boy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes seemed glazed.
She looked down at her dress again. “Is something wrong?”
He swallowed and retied a leather sash at the front of his dirty gray tunic. “No. It’s just that. . Do all girls have white hair and shining blue eyes like yours?”
She swept a handful of hair over the front of her shoulder. “No. Only one other that I know of, but she’s dead.” Taking three more steps, she closed the gap between them and stood within arm’s reach. “Your voice is familiar. .”
“So is yours.”
She whispered, “Elam?”
A broad smile crossed the boy’s face. “Mara?”
Sapphira laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes! I’m Mara!” She hoped Elam would return the embrace, but his body stiffened, feeling cold and hard. She laid her hands on his shoulders and pulled back. “I mean, I’m not Mara anymore. My name’s Sapphira now, but I’m the girl from the below lands.”
He pulled back farther, letting Sapphira’s hands slip away. “That’s impossible,” he said, squinting at her. “How could you still be alive after all these years?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
He picked up half a brick, his grip tight and his bicep flexed. “How do I know you’re not just another one of Morgan’s tricks to get me to do what she wants? You might be an imposter.”
“If you remember Morgan,” she said, wiggling her fingers in front of him, “I’m sure you’ll remember licking stew off of these.”
“I remember.” His ears turned red, and he dropped the brick. “No one else would know about that.”
“Speaking of stew. .” She swiveled her head from side to side. “Where do you find food in this place?”
“I never looked for food. I haven’t eaten anything for years.”
“Years?” she repeated. “How is that possible?”
Elam shrugged his shoulders. “I never get hungry.”
“Never? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Elam scraped his sandal along the ground. “Remember that tree Morgan has?”
“Uh-huh. Is that where you got that blossom you gave me?”
“Yes. I ate some of the fruit, the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and I haven’t been hungry since.”
Sapphira sighed. “The blossom never faded. I’ve been hiding it under Paili’s bed for centuries.”
“Paili’s alive, too? I’m glad to hear that. She’s a real nice girl from what I could tell.”
“She is, and keeping her out of Morgan’s clutches is worth all the trouble.” She turned slowly in a circle. “So, what is this place?”
“It might not be the truth, but Morgan explained everything to me.” He spread out his arms. “This whole place is the sixth circle of Sheol Hades, I guess they call it now. There used to be lots of people here, dead souls who waited for the Messiah to come and take them to heaven.”
Sapphira kicked a broken brick, scattering more dust across the empty path. “So I guess this messiah came, then.”
“Looks that way. My grandfather told me he was coming someday. Whoever he is, Morgan hates him with a passion. She says the Messiah was vindictive and left behind a lot of souls, but they’re in other circles.”
Elam suddenly covered his ears with his hands and grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” Sapphira asked.
He turned and doubled over. “Just stay away for a minute.”
Sapphira edged toward him, reaching out her hand, but she stopped and pulled back. “Can I do anything to help?”
Breathing heavily, Elam groaned. “Just shut up and leave me alone!”
Sapphira tightened her fingers around her torch, then, as tears formed in her eyes, her fingers loosened again. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll go.”
Elam spun around and held up his hand. “No! I didn’t mean you!” His eyes darkened and rolled wildly.
Sapphira waved her torch in a wide arc. “There’s no one else here!”
Elam covered his ears again. “I hear a voice, a singing voice. It’s beautiful, but the words. .” He clutched his vest and wrenched it in his fist. “The words stab my heart and make it bleed. I can’t stand it!”
Sapphira laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. “What does it say?”
Sapphira sat down next to him, her own breaths pumping in time with his. “If you tell me the words, maybe I can help you figure out how to battle it.”
He shook his head and averted his eyes. “I’d really rather not.”
Sapphira shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself.” But she didn’t really mean it. Whatever that song was, it must have been pure poison, and it didn’t seem right to let her friend battle it alone.
Elam nodded toward the spot where Sapphira had landed. “Morgan sometimes shows up over there, just like you did, but she glides down in the form of a raven. I guess she likes checking up on her prisoner once in a while. Not that she needs to, since there’s no way to escape. No matter how far you walk or which direction you go, you always end up back here.” He flicked his head toward the sky. “Now if you can teach me how to fly like you did, maybe I can get out of here after all.”
“I’m not sure how I did that,” Sapphira said, tapping her torch on the street, “but I have another idea that might work.”
Elam leaped to his feet. “I just saw someone. A man.” He grabbed Sapphira’s elbow and pulled her up, keeping his body in front of her.
Sapphira laid her hands on Elam’s shoulders and peeked around his head. “I see him, and a woman, too. They’re coming this way.”
As the pair walked slowly along the path toward the brick kilns, Elam’s voice lowered to a whisper. “They’re walking hand in hand. That’s a good sign.”
“Good enough for me.” With her torch on her shoulder, Sapphira strode right up to the pair. “Do you two live here?” she asked.
The couple, a middle-aged man and a woman in her thirties, kept walking. Sapphira had to jump out of the way to keep from being bowled over. She ran in front of them again, walking backwards as she spoke. “I was just wondering if you knew anything about this place. Is there a way out or any food anywhere?”