Song of the Ovulum

by Bryan Davis

  “I would be foolish to disagree. Palin and I have been trying to find them, but they have blended in with the villagers quite well. Perhaps I should disguise myself and choose another name.”

  “Nonsense. What name could be better than Devin the dragon slayer? It has such a lovely alliterative quality, and it strikes fear in the hearts of those who might wish to hide your prey.” Morgan touched a wooden box on the floor with her foot. “Pick this up and look inside.”

  Devin lifted the box, about the size of a camel saddle pack, and set it on the table. He opened a hinged lid and tilted the box toward himself. “It is empty.”

  “So you think.” She plucked an E string, and let it vibrate until its note faded. The game pieces disappeared with the note. “Reach in and remove that which your eyes cannot see.”

  Devin slid his fingers inside, withdrew something, and held it in his palms. Invisible at first, an egg-shaped object slowly took on a variety of colors until it turned completely black.

  Selah squeezed Joran’s arm and whispered, “The purity ovulum.”

  Joran didn’t dare answer. Getting discovered here would be the worst possible move. Taking the ovulum to its rightful place was all that mattered, so they had to stay quiet and come up with a plan. Yet, it all seemed like an impossible puzzle. Since they had entered the purity ovulum, how was it now in Devin’s hands? If they could somehow take it and escape to the white expanse, would they then be walking within the ovulum they carried?

  Morgan plucked each string in succession. As if answering, a wild shriek erupted from the ovulum along with streaks of blue light that shot out in quick, short-lived bursts, angling in every direction. Joran covered his ears. Selah did the same. Yet, Morgan and Devin continued to sit calmly, apparently unable to hear the horrid noise or see the streaks.

  As the two at the table continued talking, Joran lowered his hands. He had to listen and learn. Maybe they would provide a clue about a portal key. Fortunately, the wailing egg quieted a bit, allowing their words to come through.

  “After the flood,” Morgan said, the echo continuing to translate, “I explored the ruins of Shinar and unearthed many relics that I now keep in my museum hall. If this egg had not been coated with mud, I would never have seen it. According to my master, this is one of eight ovula and the greatest of its kind. It can seek out the seven others by detecting songs they sing. Each ovulum has its own color and song, so your purpose will be to locate and collect them all.”

  “That sounds simple enough, but what will having the entire set gain for our ultimate purpose?”

  “In theory, a great deal. You see, the dragons and their allies once used these eggs to hide Noah’s ark, so my master believes they are now being used to protect the dragons who have become humans. Once you find the eggs and destroy them, you will lift their veil of protection.”

  “Exactly what I need, but how will I find the dragons after I destroy the shields? Will the loss of this protection cause them to become more draconic? Grow scales or wings? Or perhaps they will revert completely, making them easy to ferret out.”

  “Since this is an untested theory, we do not yet know. Try to locate one ovulum, and we will see if destroying it makes a difference. Perhaps it will actually be in the dragon’s possession, making your mission an easier one. In any case, it is essential that we kill all seven dragons as soon as possible. When they are vanquished, my master wants the purity ovulum returned to me. And you must be careful with it. Anyone who destroys it will surely die a horrible death.”

  Devin pulled the ovulum closer. “Locating the first egg will be the greatest challenge. Perhaps it will be easier to find a mongrel human and squeeze the information out of her.”

  “Her?” Morgan’s thin eyebrows arched up. “Do you already have a target in mind?”

  “My spies are working on one. Soon after Merlin transformed the dragons into humans, I learned from Gartrand, the last remaining dragon, that his mate was pregnant. Of course, I slew him before anyone knew what I had learned, so his mate, who is now a pregnant human, should be easy to find.”

  “Ah! An unwed mother. She will not easily hide from the gossipers.”

  Devin nodded. “She might get married quickly as a ruse, but even then she will have trouble. According to Gartrand, she should be near her delivery time, so a hastily arranged wedding will not be enough to quiet the tongue-waggers.”

  “Excellent. Supposedly, this ovulum sings a song that calls the others, but it is inaudible to most humans. Perhaps you will be able to see something within the shells that will be a clue to how they are connected.”

  Devin peered into the ovulum. “I see nothing but blackness in this one.”

  “Because your heart is black.” Morgan began plucking the lyre again, this time playing an eerie melody. “The color of your soul can be a disadvantage.”

  He set the ovulum on the table. It stopped squealing and quickly vanished from sight. “I still see nothing within it.”

  “As I expected. My master says that human touch activates its search capabilities, so you will have to find a trusted ally whose heart is not as black as your own.”

  “Palin has shown signs of mercy on occasion.”

  “He is serviceable,” Morgan said. “When you return to your world, the two of you can work together.”

  Devin shifted his weight from foot to foot. “This could take a very long time.”

  “If you are concerned about having enough dragon blood for both of you, then I suggest that you find and slay the beasts. Collect and store as much blood as you can. The candlestone will work with the blood of those who have become human.”

  Joran glanced back at Selah. Her inquisitive expression proved that she, too, had picked up on the word candlestone. Apparently the gem had more powers than Acacia had mentioned.

  Morgan strummed the lyre. “It is time for you to go. The moat serpents will sleep as long as I play their lullaby, so make haste. I have much to do.”

  When Devin lifted the ovulum, it instantly turned black and again emitted a torturous call. He laid it gently in the box and closed the lid, bringing silence back to the room.

  Joran grabbed Selah’s arm and guided her toward the corridor’s side, whispering, “I have to get the ovulum.”

  “How?” Selah asked, her back against the wall. “We can’t create a barrier quickly enough, and we have no other weapons.”

  Joran looked at the standing suit of armor. “We have a sword.”

  “He is much bigger and stronger. It would be dangerous to confront him with his choice of weaponry.”

  “Elohim has given us victory against greater odds.”

  “But if it’s bewitched—”

  “I’ll soon find out.” After handing Selah his sonic rod, Joran hustled to the armor and grasped the end of the hilt. Blue sparks flew everywhere. Scalding heat shot through his body, but he couldn’t let go. Shaking violently, he wanted to shout, but the jolt paralyzed his throat.

  Selah ran across the corridor, leaped at Joran, and knocked him to the floor. After rolling together, they struggled to their feet, helping each other rise. “Thank you.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to settle the tingling sensation as he kept an eye on the door. It seemed that Morgan and Devin hadn’t heard the ruckus. “I hope you have a better idea than mine.”

  “Maybe.” Selah gave him his rod. “Morgan said she’s keeping serpents asleep with the lyre. If we can use our voices to interfere with her song, maybe the serpents will stop Devin.”

  “That might work.” Joran looked at the path leading back the way they had entered. The hallway’s floor transformed into blue light only twenty paces away.

  Devin burst into the corridor and marched through, apparently unaware of their presence. As he continued, instead of slowly fading into the field of blue, as soon as his foot stepped in, he disappeared.

  “How strange!” Selah said. “It’s like he didn’t see the blu
e at all.”

  “No time to figure it out. We have to spoil Morgan’s song.”

  “What shall we sing?”

  Joran rolled his eyes upward for a moment. “‘Trumpet Call’ might work.”

  “Good idea. I’ll start the rhythm.” Selah lifted her rod and spoke in a singsong cadence. “Make trumpets sound, and set the pace; Awake the crowds, and start the race.”

  Nodding with the beat, Joran began singing as he tiptoed closer to the door.

  Awaken souls from slumber’s rest;

  The trumpet sounds a battle cry.

  Arise and fight the devil’s host;

  Our song will make his minions fly.

  Joran began the song again, louder this time. Morgan pushed the door open and walked slowly through the hall, still playing the lyre. With her eyes focused straight ahead, she appeared to take no notice of Joran and Selah or their song.

  Looking at Selah, Joran broke the rhythm and let his voice fade away. Selah quieted as well.

  Morgan stopped near the empty pedestal and hummed as she continued playing.

  “She didn’t hear us,” Joran said.

  Selah tiptoed closer, her brow bent as she shifted to Morgan’s side. “She can’t see us either.”

  After a final strum, Morgan looked at the pedestal’s surface, scowled for a second, and blew off the dust. The particles lifted in a cloud, making her cough as she waved it away. She then set the lyre on the pedestal and walked back to the meeting chamber.

  “We have to catch Devin.” Joran made a hard step, but Selah pulled him back.

  “Look!” Selah set a hand on the lyre. No blue sparks arose. “Could it be Father’s?”

  “It looks like Father’s, but it’s too old.”

  “But centuries have passed, remember? If Morgan found this and the ovulum in the same area, maybe it is.”

  Joran examined the frame, searching for any identifying sign. He gave Selah his rod, picked up the lyre, and looked at the bottom. The word Enoch had been etched in the wood. “It is Father’s!”

  “It’s musical, and it’s not bewitched. Could it be our key?”

  “I wonder.” Looking at the door to the meeting room, Joran plucked a string. The note sounded sweet and clear. “Maybe it’s part of a key.”

  “Seven strings, seven ovula,” Selah said. “Each string might represent a key.”

  “Does that mean we have to do something in each ovulum that somehow matches the string progression?”

  Selah shrugged. “You played a G. Do we have a song in that key?”

  “The first that comes to mind is the one we use to make demons grow weak and feeble.”

  “Of course. The purity song. They can’t stand it.”

  Joran touched the G string again. “So do I just play it here and see if Morgan comes out? She didn’t hear us earlier.”

  “Blue is for valor,” Selah said, clenching a fist. “Let’s go in and play it right in her face.”

  Joran patted her on the back. “I should have guessed you’d say that.”

  As they strode toward the meeting room, she tapped the rods together, setting the rhythm. The moment Joran stepped inside, he began playing.

  Morgan, sitting again at the head of the table, rose from her seat and stared, her eyes so narrow, they almost disappeared. “By what magic does my lyre float into this chamber?” This time, there was no echo. It seemed that she spoke in their language.

  As Joran and Selah walked slowly closer, Joran began the song.

  When demons see our shining lights,

  They flee to shadows’ shield.

  They cannot bear a holy glow;

  No weapons can they wield.

  Morgan thrust out her arms. A wave of blackness hurtled toward them, but, although it enveloped them in darkness for a moment, it quickly dissipated. “Who is there?” she bellowed. “Is this one of Merlin’s tricks?”

  They cast their spells in vain attempts

  To smite their greatest fear,

  A man who bears a spotless soul,

  A man whose heart is clear.

  Her head lowering like a charging bull, Morgan stormed toward them. Her eyes flashed scarlet, and her skin darkened, wrinkling with each passing second.

  Joran jumped out of the way.

  Then evil shrivels in its place;

  It cannot stand the light.

  A holy presence overwhelms,

  And demons take their flight.

  Morgan raised her hands and enveloped herself in a shroud of darkness. Her casing hardened, and she stood completely still, like the suit of armor in the corridor, yet without discernible limbs or head.

  Joran stopped singing. He and Selah approached Morgan but halted well out of her reach.

  “Now that’s something we haven’t seen before,” Selah said.

  “She realized she was shriveling and protected herself.”

  Selah took a tentative step closer and squinted at the glossy covering. “I wonder how long she’ll stay like that.”

  “I hope long enough to stop her and Devin from carrying out their plans.”

  “Then maybe we did what we’re supposed to do here,” she said, stepping back. “Maybe we can go on to the next ovulum.”

  Joran looked at the lyre. The G string’s color had changed to blue. “I think this is all the proof we need.”

  “Amazing!” Selah ran her finger along the string. Even her slight touch made it hum a lovely G. “Since this is Father’s, I think it’s all right to take it. It certainly doesn’t belong to Morgan.”

  Joran grasped the frame with both hands. “If what Acacia said is true, we’ll probably need it again.”

  “Let’s go.” Selah hurried out the door.

  Joran caught up, and the two jogged side by side. As they plunged into the light, their surroundings became awash in many shades of blue before disappearing. Soon, the white doorway came into view, their passage back to the purity ovulum.

  Joran pulled Selah’s arm, halting her. “Let’s stop and plan.”

  “Okay.” Selah smiled at him as she caught her breath. “Plan what?”

  “The next color?”

  She gazed at the doorway. “I suppose we should enter whatever ovulum we find. If Elohim guides our steps, we will come to the right one.”

  “Maybe Elohim wants us to use our brains as well. After valor, what would be the next logical progression?”

  “Red for humility,” Selah said without hesitation. “Someone who succeeds at valor needs to be humble, or else he will become prideful.”

  Joran gazed at her. Filled with sincerity, she radiated the purity he had sung about. It wasn’t his own glow that shriveled Morgan; it had to be hers.

  He laid a hand on her shoulder. “If not for you, I’d be dead. I would have no valor at all. I don’t have a single reason to feel prideful about anything.”

  “Maybe not,” Selah said. “Perhaps the red ovulum will reveal what we need to learn.”

  “Well, well, well. Here are the two fools I have been looking for.”

  Joran spun toward the sound. A dark winged figure shadowed the doorway leading to the purity ovulum. Tamiel!

  TAKING FLIGHT

  “My name?” A wash of heat flooded Matt’s cheeks. “Oh, yeah. It’s Matt. Matt Fletcher. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem.” She shook his hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Matt Fletcher.”

  He returned her firm grip. “My pleasure, Lauren Hunt.”

  She stared at the dim hall. “So which room is your mother supposed to be in?”

  “I’ll show you.” Matt withdrew the map and unfolded it. Shining the penlight on the page, he traced their route from the entry door to their current position. “There should be another hall to the left, then the room she might be in is third on the right.”

  “We’d better get going.”

  Stepping softly, Matt led the way. He shone
the penlight on the floor a pace or two in front. After making the turn into the new hallway and passing two doors, the room they sought came into view. A solid steel door barred the way, and a sign on the front read—Healers and Specimens Only.

  Lauren shuddered. “Specimens? That’s a chilling way to put it.”

  “I know what you mean.” Matt spied the security panel to the right of the door. “I wish we could peek inside before I try to open this thing.”

  “Wait a minute.” Lauren tilted her head to the side, apparently listening.

  “Are you getting that tingling sensation?”

  Nodding, she let out a low “Shhh.” After a few seconds, she continued in a whisper. “I hear breathing and a soft tune of some kind. And I think I’m picking up some thoughts.”

  “Now you’re a mind reader?”

  “Yeah. Go figure.” She closed her eyes. “I keep hearing Joran and Selah and something about a liar. Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Not a bit, but if there’s only thinking and no talking, I guess it’s safe. I still don’t feel any danger.” He set the ID bracelet against the reader. As soon as the door buzzed, he pulled it open, revealing a hospital-style ward. At a bank of three windows on the far wall, veiled moonlight filtered through open blinds. A bed sat under each window, and a motionless woman lay on the rightmost bed.

  Matt stepped inside and waited for Lauren to join him before letting the door close. He hurried to the bed and clutched the metal rail at the foot. Leather straps fastened the woman’s wrists and ankles to the frame, and a pair of huge wings spread out behind her, each stretching well beyond the side rails.

  Matt mouthed a silent Wow! while Lauren looked on, her mouth agape. The woman appeared to be in her thirties. Her dark hair covered most of the pillow, though the dimness made the color uncertain. She wore a hospital gown, open in front just enough to reveal one electrode at the top of her sternum and wires leading from underneath the gown to a machine at the bed’s left. An IV bag hung from a pole at the bed’s right, allowing liquid to slowly drip through a tube leading to her left hand. With the restraints in place, instead of a prisoner or a specimen, she looked like a hostile patient.