Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

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.”