Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Makaidos rose slowly to his feet, hoping not to awaken Thigocia. She lay near the back of the stall on a deep bed of clean straw, her head tucked under a wing. Since he kept his own pile of straw near the front, he was able to slip through the open door without a sound.

From the corridor, he glanced back at her. Thigocia’s wing had moved, uncovering her noble brow and graceful snout. Makaidos couldn’t help but stare. He had never really noticed before how beautiful she was. She had been a playmate as a youngling and a fellow warrior in recent years, but he had never noticed anything beyond her ability to spin a one-eighty at top speed or to scorch a Naphil with one breath. Now she looked. . well. . lovely. His gaze wandered to the space between her bed of straw and his own. He sighed quietly and followed Ham’s path down the corridor.

The ark’s frame croaked a dirge of grunts, creaks, and moans from the weakened planks, masking Makaidos’s heavy steps. He passed the sleeping human families, Noah and his wife hand in hand on a pile of straw, Japheth and his wife in a smaller stall next to his father’s, then Ham’s wife sleeping next to a swaddled newborn baby Canaan, they had named him. The last stall, Shem’s, was empty. It was his turn to patrol the animal decks, and his wife always went with him. But why would Ham be up so early in the morning when he didn’t have to be?

When Makaidos reached the ladder that led to the lower level, he peered down, stretching his neck as far as he could. Below, a flickering lantern revealed Ham sitting on the floor next to a birdcage. Shem and his wife were nowhere in sight, probably on the lowest deck, the level for large mammals and non-sentient reptiles.

As the raven on Ham’s shoulder pecked at a heap of seeds in his palm, he spoke to it in a low tone. “So what is your plan?”

The raven croaked into Ham’s ear, but too quietly for Makaidos to distinguish any words.

“The air vents are too small for you to escape,” Ham said. “Even after the flood subsides, Father probably won’t let any birds go until he is sure they are healthy and mating.”

Again, the raven answered in an indecipherable voice.

“Yes,” Ham replied. “My father has already spoken about that. We will need a land scout soon.”

The bird spoke again, this time loud enough for Makaidos to hear its squawking words. “Send me.”

Ham shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? Since we have two other ravens, he’ll think you’re expendable.”

Makaidos pulled his head back through the door. Although his sense of danger pinched his nerves again, the conversation between Ham and the raven seemed innocent enough. He had heard birds talk before, even ravens, and this one seemed to be trying to figure out how to escape. Who could blame it for wanting to go free? Still, something felt wrong. . very wrong. Weren’t ravens simply mimics rather than reasoning creatures? He would have to keep an eye on this suspicious crow.

The raven flew up through the hatch and into the rafters, carrying a dried grape in its beak. It landed on a high beam and set the grape next to another one. As Makaidos pondered the bird’s strange behavior, he shuffled back to his stall and found Thigocia awake.

“Patrolling?” she asked, stretching her legs and wings.

Makaidos stayed out in the corridor and spoke softly. “It is difficult to sleep when my mind replays my father’s death.”

Thigocia stepped to the stall’s entry and reached her wing over Makaidos’s neck. “I apologize for what I said about your sister.”

“My sister? What did you say about her?”

“I implied that she was a crybaby. I had forgotten that she would also die in the flood.”

Makaidos cocked his head and let his voice grow a bit louder. “You said that months ago. Why do you bring it up now?”

Thigocia lowered her gaze to the floor. “I was unable to think of any other reason you might be angry with me.”

“I am not angry with you! I told you I do not know why I could not pass through the veil.”

“Shhh!” Thigocia warned. “The humans are sleeping.”

“I was sleeping!” Noah stepped out of his quarters and stretched his arms. “Is there a problem?”

Makaidos grimaced. “Pardon me, Master Noah. I apologize for my outburst.”

Noah walked slowly toward them, balancing against the rocking boat. “Think nothing of it, my friend. After so many months in close quarters, we are all on edge.”

“Not just on edge. Thigocia and I are weak from lack of light. When we were adrift, we could absorb the rays that came in through the window, but now we are wedged at an angle that does not allow the sun to enter. The lanterns and vents in the rafters help, but we cannot survive much longer without direct sunlight.”

Sympathy creased Noah’s brow. “The doors are sealed. By God’s command I cannot open ”

“Yes, Master Noah. I know. I did not mean my explanation to be interpreted as a complaint against you.”

Ham climbed up from the lower deck. “Father,” he said, bowing his head as he approached. “I overheard your conversation. May I suggest something?”

Makaidos felt a twinge of warning again. This was the most respect Ham had shown his father the entire journey.

Noah returned a head nod. “Certainly.”

“Since mountaintops are visible in the distance, you suggested last week that there might be land close by in one of the directions we can’t see. Why not send out a bird to test that theory. If it comes back, there is likely no place to land.”

“I have thought of that.” Noah pressed a finger to his cheek. “We have very few birds to spare, but I was thinking we could release one of the doves we brought for sacrifice.”

Ham shook his head. “No need. We can send my raven out. She’s expendable, and she can let us know if there is dry land nearby.”

Noah laughed. “I heard that raven grumbling about grapes the other day. I thought I was finally losing my mind.”

Ham pointed at the black bird as it perched in the rafters. “I’ve been talking to her for months, and she’s learned quite a few words, so I trained her to fetch things, like crickets for the snakes or raisins for the monkeys. She could find something on land and bring it to us.”

Makaidos gazed into Ham’s eyes, searching for a hint of a lie. He had seen him talking to the raven, so that part was true enough, but the raven spoke back to him. Would Ham mention that, too?

Noah stroked his chin. “But there will be no crickets or raisins to find. Everything will be dead and washed away.”

“True, but before the grapes dried out, I taught her the difference between the purple ones and the green ones. I’ll just ask her to bring us something green. Maybe new seedlings have sprouted by now.”

“An interesting theory,” Noah said. “I think it’s worth a try. We’re all anxious to get our feet back on solid ground.” He shuffled into the anteroom, a noticeable stagger in his step. He opened the shutters, allowing a stiff breeze to sweep through the cabin.

Ham whistled toward the rafters, and the raven fluttered down to his shoulder. “Go to my father,” Ham said. He then whispered something in the bird’s ear.

Makaidos snorted to himself. That whispering was more than words of comfort. Something devious was going on.

With two flaps of its ebony wings, the raven jumped to Noah’s shoulder, its feathers ruffling in the wind. Ham hustled down the ladder toward the second level. “I’ll be right back,” he called.

“What’s going on?” Japheth stepped into the corridor, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you opening the window so early?”

Noah nodded at the raven on his shoulder. “An experiment, of sorts.”