Bryan Davis: Eye of the Oracle

Noah bowed to Makaidos. “Hail, new king of the dragons.” As he lifted his head, large tears streamed from both eyes. “It is a pity that your coronation comes on a day of sorrows. Today you have lost a father, and I have lost a grandfather. While death and destruction surround us, shall we weep together or rejoice that God has rescued us from this calamity?”

Makaidos glanced at Thigocia. “With all due respect, Master Noah, she dragged me in here. I would have died fighting alongside my father.”

Noah waved his hand. “Trust me. I understand. God sometimes has unusual ways to bring about his purposes.” He lifted the lantern toward the rafters. “Would any human conceive of such a vessel? If I were to destroy all flesh, I doubt that I would plan to cover the earth with water and then load a stampede of goats, monkeys, and squirrels onto a monstrosity like this!” He chuckled softly. “Preposterous! Three thousand years from now, will anyone even believe it happened?”

The boat rocked again, slinging Noah to the floor. As the ark leveled, Makaidos extended a clawed hand and lifted the old man gently to his feet. “Perhaps they will believe it,” Makaidos said, “if anyone lives to create the next generation.”

Thigocia thwacked Makaidos on the leg with her tail. “Behave yourself!”

“Father!” Shem rushed to Noah’s side. “Are you all right?”

“I am.” Noah brushed a coating of sawdust from his cloak. “What about Eve’s Door?”

“I couldn’t believe it!” Shem ran his fingers through his hair, bouncing on his toes like a child. “It was already closed! All we had to do was seal it!”

Noah lifted a wrinkled hand. “Praise to Elohim! He watches over even the most careless of his flock!”

Japheth bustled into the chamber, still carrying the bucket and clutching his side. “Adam’s Door and the window are sealed.” He closed the door behind him. “Shall I seal this one as well?”

Noah shook his head. “No need. It will hold. When the rain stops, we will want access to the window.”

“Before I sealed the shutters” Japheth slowly opened the interior door again “this bird barged in.” A large, wet raven flew through the doorway and darted into the rafters. It floundered from beam to beam and scattered droplets until it managed to perch on a wide truss near the ceiling.

“Very strange,” Japheth said. “It seems to have forgotten how to fly.”

“Leave it be,” Noah said. “It has been battered by the storm, and it’s exhausted. We can leave birdseed out later.”

Japheth set the bucket down and patted Thigocia’s front leg. “Do you want to see your quarters? They’re not much more than stalls, but we humans have the same accommodations, so we’re not playing favorites with anyone.”

Thigocia jerked her leg back and smirked. This human could learn a lesson or two in manners from his father. “Thank you,” she said. “I would like that.”

As Japheth led Thigocia into the dark chamber, Makaidos followed. “I would also like to see my quarters. I am exhausted from the battles.”

Japheth glanced back. “I wasn’t sure if you would need a separate room for an egg nest, but that can be constructed later.”

“An egg nest?” Makaidos repeated. “Dragons bear their young alive.”

Japheth scratched his head. “I guess I should have known that.”

“Few humans do. We have not produced many offspring since the day of our creation.”

“Anyway,” Japheth continued, “the stall is plenty big for you and Thigocia, even if you have a. . a baby. I don’t know what you call a little dragon.”

Makaidos halted. “We have the same stall?”

Japheth stopped and turned around. “Yes, of course. We thought ”

“My son,” Noah interrupted, walking behind the group. He caught up and draped an arm over Japheth’s shoulder. “Dragons have morals and rituals that are similar to those of humans, and as God’s prophet, I have the authority to join Makaidos and Thigocia in wedlock. We will create their covenant veil immediately.”

Japheth tilted his head at his father. “Covenant veil?”

Noah clasped his hands together. “When two dragons join, they must pass through a spiritual veil that tests their hearts’ willingness to commit to their union forever. If either dragon has a shadow of deception or doubt, whether conscious or not, he or she is unable to pass, and the covenant is not complete.”

“How do you make the veil?” Japheth asked.

Noah patted his son on the back. “You will find out soon enough.”

Makaidos pawed the floor. “I feared this was coming.”

“Feared?” Heat flooded Thigocia’s eyes. “And what is wrong with marrying me?”

“We have known each other since we were younglings,” Makaidos said. “We have played together, fought together, even bled together. We are best friends, not lovers.”

Thigocia thumped her tail and scowled. “As it should be! I would prefer to marry my best friend over some sniveling suitor who fancies flying over romantic vistas. Give me a male like you who would rather fight in a bloody battle any day!”

Makaidos snorted. “Marrying you would be like marrying my little sister!”

Thigocia lifted her head and stared at Makaidos eye to eye, her voice pitching up. “My father married his sister, and I am no crybaby youngling. When we blasted that Watcher in the Valley of ”

Noah laughed so hard he could barely speak. “That’s enough!” He wiped a tear from his eye and draped an arm over each dragon’s neck, grinning like a proud father. “There is no other reasonable option. The existence of the dragon race depends on it. You are to be wed immediately.”

A flicker of light caught Makaidos’s eye. Noah’s son Ham walked by the dragons’ stall with the late-arriving raven perched on his shoulder. A twinge of pain pinched Makaidos’s gut. He winced at the danger signal. Was it real this time?

Months on the ark had dulled his senses. He had no gems for building a bed to produce the conic shroud of light dragons needed to regain their strength. Such a regeneracy dome was crucial for a dragon’s health, as his father had taught the day they first built a dome together. “Some gems give us strength,” Arramos had said, extending a single red stone in his open claws, “but this one gives us identity. It represents your vision, your passion, and your sacrifice, and one day, it will be a door to freedom. Take this rubellite and wear it always. It is the key to our everlasting union as father and son.”

Makaidos lowered his head and flashed his eyebeams at his underbelly. Pressed deep into a gap between his scales, a small red gem reflected his beams, his rubellite, a protective shield placed at his most vulnerable point. Even after all his battles, even after all those long days and nights on the ark, the rubellite stayed with him, reminding him of his father’s gift to all his progeny. Thigocia, of course, had one, too. All the dragons of old would find a rubellite for each son or daughter, a dragon symbol for all generations.

He raised his head again, and a dull pain throbbed from ear to ear. With only the glow of a dozen lanterns swinging from the rafters, darkness had sapped him dry. The rain had eased several months ago, so he had hoped for a quick end to the tedious sea voyage, but it was not to be. With the ark’s lower hull wedged in the peaks of an underwater mountain range, they had to withstand the constant rocking of waves splashing against the sides.

Makaidos kept his eye on Ham as he disappeared down the ladder toward the second level. It hadn’t taken long to learn that Ham’s brothers considered him a scoundrel. He performed his chores adequately, but there was something not quite right about him. Even as he obeyed Noah, his eyes seemed to defy every word.