Eye of the Oracle oof-1

by Bryan Davis

  “The rubellite in the pendant is ready to serve as the Great Key, but who will be the two witnesses?”

  Enoch spread out his glowing fingers. “One who will come in a disembodied state similar to ours as well as another witness who is flesh and blood. A number of years must pass before the culmination of that plan, for the dragon king has yet to arrive, and the second witness has yet to find her way.”

  Merlin melded his fingers with Enoch’s scarlet wrist. “Is Valcor in as much turmoil as it appears?”

  “Without a doubt. He wishes to shelter everyone in his protective wing, yet he knows that God has not called him to cower in the shadows. While Valcor struggles in his mind, the destiny of all dragons hangs in the balance.” Enoch laid his hand on Merlin’s forehead. “Close what is left of your physical eyes and follow me. Since the Oracle of Fire will count on the lessons she has learned through the centuries, our timing must be perfect.”

  After poking her head through the neck hole of her fuzzy blue nightgown, Sapphira let the hem drop to her knees. She laid her cross next to Enoch’s scroll at the edge of her floor mat and curled up close to Acacia. Her twin snored lightly, tired from her turn in the village scrounging for food the usual potatoes, cabbages, and beans as well as for books, clothing, and firewood.

  All the other scrolls had burned long ago, and the cross’s flames never seemed hot enough for cooking. So if they ever wanted warm food, they had to get fuel, and hauling an armload of wood up to the portal on the steep hill proved to be quite a task. Still, taking turns kept the burden manageable, and the townsfolk thought the same blind girl visited the alleys and dustbins every day probing for castaway remnants. Although they never begged, sometimes their accessories sunglasses, a ragged bonnet, and a walking cane coaxed a bit of monetary sympathy from a few kindhearted souls. The money they collected came in handy for an occasional bar of soap or a newspaper.

  Sapphira pulled her blanket to her shoulder. The cavern seemed to get a bit colder every decade, but sleeping had become much more comfortable since the people in the living world began throwing away such treasures as mats and blankets. With only a tiny hole punching through the material here and there, her new bed had provided many nights of comfort without the soreness that her old sand mattress had inflicted, and the threadbare blanket was just enough to ward off the chill.

  Still, a mattress alone couldn’t bring complete comfort. Sapphira closed her eyes, trying to shut out the pain of a thousand haunting thoughts, but visions of Elam kept flashing in her mind. What was he doing now? Did he get away from Devin back in, what was it, nineteen thirty something? Or was it only a dream? Was he even alive? If he was, had he forgotten about her?

  Over the years since Elam stopped appearing on the screen, every time Sapphira surfaced in Glastonbury to hunt for food or other supplies, she took note of every young man she passed. Strangely enough, many of them smiled at her, though they believed her to be blind, giving her opportunity to study their faces. Hundreds of smiling faces later, no Elam. Images of Paili also haunted her. How old would she appear to be now? Twenty-five? Thirty?

  As Sapphira drifted into a dream, her age calculations jumbled together into a mass of battling numbers the fives using their little hats as swords to stab the helpless numeral ones, and the zeroes coming to the ones’ defense by bowling over the fives. The eights joined the fives and pounced on the zeroes, breaking them like fragile eggs. More zeroes rolled in and flattened the eights into lopsided infinity symbols.

  The digital war raged on and on until, finally, a few surviving numbers lined up into a neat row, creating “6913,” but there seemed no reason for the sequence. Then, the battling numbers crumbled and blew away in the wind, leaving only darkness.

  As Sapphira squirmed toward wakefulness, the portal viewer flashed to life in her mind, showing Paili sitting at a table. She appeared in her eight-year-old body, not as the grown woman she had to be by now. With a long dagger, she sliced one of Morgan’s evil fruits and raised a section to her lips.

  Sapphira pitched off her blanket and ran to the screen. “No, Paili!” she cried. “No!”

  Paili put the wedge into her mouth and chewed. Blood dripped from her lips, and her face wrinkled into a hideous, mummified mask.

  “Why, Paili?” Sapphira wailed, as she sank to her knees. “Why did you eat it? You knew better!”

  Paili spat out a red seed. As soon as it hit the table, it grew, stretching into a saltshaker-sized red dragon that stood tall and proud. She spat out another seed, then another, until the tabletop was filled with miniature dragons, each one trumpeting and vying for position near Paili.

  A final seed passed through her lips, a red-and-white-striped one that fell to the table and grew into a boy with dragon wings. The dragons spewed fire on him, turning him into a spinning column of flames. A dozen tongues of fire erupted from the column and slurped the dragons into the vortex. Seconds later, the table was clear except for one dragon standing at the center.

  The dragon molded into the shape of a man and jumped toward Paili. His body merged with hers, leaving Paili by herself again. A moment later, a girl sprang from Paili’s bosom, a beautiful young lady with sparkling blue eyes and blonde-streaked hair. She sat in a chair next to Paili and folded her hands on the table.

  Paili cut out a second wedge from the fruit and handed it to the girl. As the girl studied the wedge, Sapphira cried out again. “No! Whoever you are, don’t eat it!” She closed her eyes and wept, unable to look.

  When she finally peeked between her fingers, the scene had cleared again, and an image of Elam appeared, then a boy with wings, then a man who oscillated between being human and a dragon, and finally, Morgan. Although she was in human form, Morgan, using talon-like feet, carried Paili high over a huge estate toward a driveway guarded by two of Shinar’s idols. After landing next to Elam and the dragon man, a sword flashed out of Morgan’s mouth and stabbed the winged boy. Suddenly, a little girl appeared, and Morgan flew away with the child locked in her talons.

  Acacia groaned. Sapphira opened her eyes. They were both still in bed. Now throwing off the covers for real, she hopped up and spun toward the portal. As usual, its dim orange light whirled in a stoic column, slow and silent.

  She snatched up her cross and gazed at Acacia for a moment. No use putting her in danger. Besides, even after all her practice, Acacia still wasn’t as adept at opening portals, and portal manipulation might be the only skill that could rescue Morgan’s potential victims.

  Sapphira grabbed her upper-world disguise and hurried silently out of the room. If she failed, she didn’t want to risk losing Acacia again.

  Chapter 4

  Morgan’s Victory

  Elam stood on a driveway leading to Patrick’s mansion and leaned against one of two stone columns that supported an open, wrought iron gate, the entrance to the expansive manor. Standing in front of him, Gabriel fidgeted while Patrick unfastened his backpack. “I apologize for my clumsiness,” Patrick said, pulling the pack away, “but you’re free now.”

  “Thanks.” Gabriel spread out his wings and shook each of them in turn. “That’s a lot better. It felt like two elephants were hopping on pogo sticks back there.”

  Patrick withdrew a small handgun from the pack and slid it into his pocket. “Perhaps they were jumpy because of my revolver.”

  “Could be. More likely because I’m as jumpy as a cricket in a frying pan.”

  Elam pointed an unlit torch at the backpack. “Are your wings always uncomfortable when you stuff them in there?”

  “You get used to it.” Gabriel lifted each shoulder in turn. “Well, sort of.”

  Elam backed away from the gate’s supporting column. Chiseled with eight vertically stacked hideous faces, it looked like a prop from a bad horror movie. He had recognized these remnants of Shinar’s idols when he first saw them bordering the driveway, but he hadn’t remembered to ask Patrick about them. He poked one of the faces with the torch. “How’d these
get here?”

  Patrick pointed toward his mansion. “The portal we plan to use to get rid of Devin is the very same portal from which Makaidos escaped Dragons’ Rest. It was in a depression called Blood Hollow, and I bought this property with the sole purpose of protecting that point, which now happens to be at the back wall of the compass room. When Makaidos emerged, it seems that these columns came with him. The force of their expulsion apparently propelled them all the way from the back of the property grounds to the front entry. Since I found them to be practically indestructible, I decided to keep them as souvenirs. They make excellent sentries, don’t you think?”

  “It’s a great advertisement.” Gabriel held his hands out as if displaying a sign. “Wanted: Ugly guards. Apply within.”

  “You’re quite the jester today.” Patrick rubbed his finger across a narrow, engraved plaque wedged in the lips of one of the stone faces. “But they actually do carry a sign. As you can see, I managed to embed my home’s address in the mouth of this particularly ugly woman.”

  Elam touched the numbers with his fingertip. “Sixty-nine thirteen? Why do you have such a high number? Yours is the only house in sight.”

  “I picked it myself,” Patrick replied. “Six is the number of man. In order to get the second number, add three, the number of God. That represents the union of God and man in the Messiah. Finally, the thirteen honors both the Messiah and Merlin. The Messiah, of course, guided twelve unruly disciples and transformed all but one into holy saints. Merlin brought twelve dragons to Bald Top to be transformed, and stood as our ally, a thirteenth dragon, if you will, and transformed all but one into new creatures. The number thirteen has long been considered a symbol of transformation from one state into another, a dying to an old way of life, and many leaders of twelve have walked this earth to deliver that transformation, promising to return to their followers someday. I still trust that both the Messiah and Merlin will return at exactly the time we need them.”

  Gabriel winked at Elam. “That’s exactly what I thought it meant.”

  Elam laughed and popped Gabriel on the arm with his fist. “I thought of it first.”

  “Yes, gentlemen, and I am a monkey’s uncle.” Patrick withdrew a pocket watch from his trousers and checked the time. “I expected Devin to arrive an hour ago. My sources must have inaccurately estimated his position.”

  As Elam scanned the dark, cloudy skies, damp gusts swept through his hair. Somehow, the dismal weather seemed a perfect backdrop for the looming battle. Fortunately, the slayer had agreed to come alone. Boldly daring him to face his enemy without his little lackey was a stroke of genius on Patrick’s part, and picking this hill that overlooked the entire estate proved to be a perfect rendezvous point. The slayer had to show himself long before he could attack.

  Elam firmed his chin. It was better this way out in the open and face-to-face. The only question now was how Devin would arrive. On foot? In a car? Dropped out of the sky? Whichever way he chose, he was likely to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

  Gabriel pushed his hands into his pockets and angled his head upward. “I’ll keep watch overhead, just in case that raven shows up.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Surveying the horizon, Elam tried to pick out the great tor in the haze. The steep hill’s dim outline protruded from the surrounding plane, slightly darker than the blowing fog that veiled its summit. As misty droplets thickened into a steady drizzle, something moved in the foreground of the gray countryside. Tiny and nebulous in the distance, a human figure trotted up the long driveway. Elam waved his hand. “Someone’s coming!”

  “Stand ready, men,” Patrick said. “Have courage, Gabriel.”

  Elam lowered his hand to his side. “Wait! I see a skirt. It’s a woman. . or a girl.”

  “I see her,” Gabriel said. “Unless Devin’s hiding Excalibur in his bloomers, we should be safe.”

  “Yeah, but it might be Morgan. Devin’s got the fangs, but she’s got the poison.” Elam shielded his eyes from the rain. “It doesn’t look like her, but Morgan can disguise herself as a toad if she wants to.”

  Gabriel smirked. “Would she even need a mask for that?”

  “Actually,” Patrick said, lifting a chain necklace over his head, “she bears a striking, even bewitching, beauty.” He dangled the pendant from his fingers. “Gabriel, take the gem and be ready to fly to the portal window, just in case.”

  Gabriel hustled back to Patrick and closed his fingers around the pendant. He locked gazes with Patrick for a moment, then tightened his fist. “Let’s do it.”

  As the female drew closer, Elam focused on her frilly bonnet, dark sunglasses, and white walking cane. Though her most striking features were covered, he could never mistake her pale skin, her slender, girlish form, and her distinctive, frantic trot. Sapphira was back!

  Fighting the slick incline, Sapphira hurried up the long driveway. The hike from the tor’s portal had been long and wet, and asking for directions based on fleeting images and an obscure number from a dream had proved an embarrassing chore. “Why would a blind girl need such information?” one woman had said. “You shouldn’t be out on such a frightful day.” Yet, she finally gained the favor of an old newspaper deliveryman who answered her questions kindly, and now that she had reached the last turn in his rather convoluted directions, she knew she had found the right place. The two idols were exactly where she had seen them in her dream.

  She stopped and pulled Yereq’s digital timer from her pocket. Just as she thought it might, the numbers now matched the address she had been looking for, “6913.” She slid it back into her pocket and drummed her fingers on her thigh. So many coincidences! Something big was about to happen.

  At the top of the hill, three male figures watched her an adult, a boy with wings, and another young man, a very special young man she had longed to see for many years. Her legs trembled so hard she could barely stand. Elam was there, and he had spotted her. She was sure of it.

  She waved, but Elam didn’t wave back. He just spoke to the man standing next to him. She took off her sunglasses and waved again. Maybe now Elam would recognize her.

  A rumbling drone sounded from above. Sapphira glanced up at a low-flying airplane approaching the estate, but it caught her attention only for a second. She turned back to Elam, who was now waving frantically. “Hurry!” he called. “Get up here!”

  Sapphira dropped her cane and broke into a mad dash, slipping at first before her bare feet caught the driveway’s blacktop. Spreading her arms to keep her balance, she sprinted up the slope. “Elam!” she cried. “You’re alive! Thank God, you’re alive!” She leaped into his embrace. As Elam spun her around, she bent her knees and lifted her feet into the air. When he let her down, she gripped his shoulders. “Elam, I just had to come and find you. Last night I dreamed what would happen today, and it was so real, I knew it had to be true. You’re in great danger.”

  “I know.” Elam pointed toward the sky. “We think a dragon slayer’s in that airplane. But don’t worry. Patrick and I have it under control.”

  Sapphira put her sunglasses back on and nodded at the winged boy. “Morgan wants him dead. We need to get him out of here.”

  Elam squinted at her. “How could you dream about Gabriel? Do you know him?”

  “Just from the dream. I also saw Patrick and his wife, and she’s in trouble, too.” Sapphira regripped his shoulders. “You have to get Gabriel away from this place!”

  Patrick pointed upward. “A parachute opened. We can expect Devin to arrive in about a minute.”

  Elam pulled a lighter from his pocket and set fire to the oil-soaked torch. “Gabriel is our bait. We’re going to get Devin to follow him and me to the portal, and I’ll send him to Hades.”

  Sapphira laid a hand on Patrick’s back and pushed him toward Elam and Gabriel. “I’ll take care of the dragon slayer.” She pulled the cross from her waistband. “But you three had better get inside before Morgan shows up. Knowing her, she’s likely to kill
your wife.”

  Patrick shook his head emphatically. “We cannot leave you with Devin on a wild hunch that Morgan might be in my house. Ruth is not in danger from her.”

  The cross slipped out of Sapphira’s hands. “What name did you call her?”

  “Ruth.” Patrick picked up the cross and handed it back to Sapphira. His eyes focused on hers, lingering for a moment. “I take it you know her by another name. . perhaps a much older name.”

  “When I see her, I’ll know for sure.” Sapphira pointed the cross at the mansion. “If I’m right, as soon as Morgan lays eyes on her, she’ll figure out the truth and kill her!”

  “Morgan won’t kill her. She needs her to produce an offspring.”

  “But Ruth isn’t normal. I learned in my dream that the only way she’ll ever conceive by you is if your dragon genes get altered into human ones, and when Morgan figures that out, she won’t mind killing her.”

  Patrick waved his hand at Sapphira. “Yes, I know all that, which is exactly why I set up this confrontation.” He patted the outside of his pocket. “And don’t worry about Devin. I have a backup plan if our primary plan goes awry.”

  “But Morgan will ”

  “Stay behind me!” Patrick spread his arms, making a shield in front of Sapphira and Gabriel. “No time to explain! Devin is upon us!”

  As the slayer neared the ground, Elam stepped out in front and waved his torch, but it seemed a feeble weapon against a trained knight bearing the sword of swords.

  With a deft swipe, Devin cut his parachute lines just before landing. After rolling to the wet grass and then jumping to his feet, he brandished Excalibur and glowered at his opposition. “An unarmed man, a winged mongrel, a boy with a torch, and a skinny, blind girl. How pitiful! Killing you four would hardly be sporting.”

  Elam pointed his torch at the slayer. Its fire sizzled in the growing rainstorm. “Does a true knight threaten a girl? Let them go and follow me to the mansion’s ancient grounds where we can fight one-on-one in a hallowed arena.”