Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Naamah felt a sudden shove. She toppled over and plummeted headfirst toward the sea, screaming. Just before she struck the waves, blackness snuffed her thoughts.

Makaidos lifted his head. “Did you hear that?”

Thigocia’s ears twitched. “A scream?”

“That’s what I thought. But it was brief. . silenced.” Makaidos raised his body, his weak legs shaking beneath him. “I think it came from the window.” He aimed his eyebeams, casting twin rays toward the ark’s breezeway. The dim rays darted around the walls of the listing ark until they landed on the window. A gust of wind threw open the shutter. It banged against the hull, squeaked loudly as it drew back toward the window, then banged open again.

“Just the shutter squeaking?” Thigocia asked.

“No. It was different. . louder. A human voice.” Makaidos lumbered into the corridor, passing Ham’s quarters. Baby Canaan lay swaddled in the hay, alone. It was Ham’s turn to patrol the lower decks, so it made sense that he was gone, but Naamah only left her bed to eat and take care of personal hygiene, and she usually took Canaan with her. She had always been so possessive of her baby, even keeping him away from his other relatives, it seemed strange to see him lying there alone.

Makaidos extended his neck and gently nudged the baby with his snout. Canaan squirmed and reached his pudgy arms over his wrappings, stretching his mouth into a yawning oval. The dragon nodded. The baby seemed fine. Perhaps Naamah had thought him old enough to sleep on his own. Maybe she decided to accompany Ham this time. They did not get along well, certainly not like Noah and Emzara, or his brothers and their wives. Spending time working together with the animals might be just what they needed. But why the scream? Could she have fallen down the ladder?

Makaidos lumbered to the hole leading to the lower levels and peered down. Although his eyebeams were dimmer than usual, he could still see the deck below. A single lantern hung nearby, casting yellow flickering light on the gopher wood planks. He stretched as far as he could, but the light gave no hint of any awakened animals, except for a few birdcage tenants, including two owls that stared back at him, their eyes wide and curious.

A strange shadow seemed to crawl along the floor, like fog creeping from one cage to the next. The lantern’s weak glow gave only a hint of the fog’s depth and color shallow and black as it drifted closer to the owls. The other birds seemed to take no notice, and the owls kept their gaze locked on the dragon’s beams, as though the fog were invisible to their probing eyes. One of the parrots, however, shifted back and forth, bobbing its head excitedly.

A hint of danger crept over Makaidos’s body. After so many months of safety, the subtle tingling that buzzed through his scales seemed like a distant memory, yet alarming all the same. He blinked at the fog. Could that be the cause? It would have to be a powerful evil for his weakened senses to pick it up.

A loud footstep clumped on the lower deck, and a pair of sandals came into view. As Ham reached for the lantern, his feet swept away the black mist. His glance landed on Makaidos, then quickly averted. “Strange fog,” he mumbled.

Makaidos shut down his eyebeams. “Exactly my thoughts.”

Ham waved his hand and kicked at the mist. “It’s nothing, really. It’s been showing up on the lower decks every morning for a week, but no harm has befallen either man or beast.”

“So the animals are thriving?” Makaidos asked.

Ham chuckled. “They don’t have much to do, so we’re seeing more births than we expected. In fact, the elephant is about to calve. I was coming up to get Shem or Japheth to help me.”

“Oh. I thought maybe Naamah was down there helping you.”

“Naamah?” Ham hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Yes, she’s down there, but she’s too small to help with the elephant.”

“I see.” Makaidos pulled his head from the hole and aimed his eyebeams into Shem’s quarters. The faithful son of Noah slept soundly, nestled with his wife in their pile of straw. The soothing noises of human sleep drifted into the dragon’s ears, twin sounds of contented, rhythmic breathing.

Ham climbed up the ladder and stood with his hands on his hips. “It’s a shame to wake them.”

“Indeed.”

Ham shuffled in and nudged Shem’s shoulder. “Elephant’s calving. Time to get up.”

Makaidos slunk toward his stall, listening to the quiet voice of Shem’s wife behind him.

“Of course I’m coming with you again. Pregnant or not, I can move straw around and clean up the blood.”

“Okay,” Shem replied, “but be careful on the ladder rungs.”

Noah stepped out of his quarters with his wife. “So,” he said, “young Madeline must have been with child, er, with elephant, before she came on board.”

Emzara held out her hand. “Let’s go! I have never seen an elephant birth.”

Stopping at the entry to his quarters, Makaidos looked back. Shem’s wife walked beside her husband, one hand on her belly and the other holding tightly to his hand. While Shem descended the ladder, she looked back at Makaidos. When their eyes met, she beamed. Such a smile! It would have melted the heart of the stoniest cynic. There was no doubt. Motherhood had dressed her with sheer joy.

Noah kept a grip on his wife’s elbow as she maneuvered into position on the ladder. When she was safely on her way, Noah let go, straightened himself, and smiled at Makaidos. The old man nodded. “You seem perplexed, my dear dragon.”

Makaidos sighed. “Watching humans has often perplexed me. They are so strange.”

Noah stroked his chin and nodded again. “Is that so?” Carefully grasping the ladder, he started his descent, but before his head submerged below the deck, he stopped, and his bushy eyebrows knitted together. “Is love really so strange, Makaidos? Even at my age, after hundreds of years of being together, my wife and I are closer in oneness every day. My heart will always be with Emzara.” Noah then disappeared below deck.

Makaidos slid into his quarters and gazed at Thigocia. With her eyes wide and her ears rotating, she looked more beautiful than ever.

“Did you figure out who screamed?” she asked.

“It could have been a parrot down below. It seemed pretty nervous.” Makaidos crawled to the middle of their stall and kept his gaze locked on Thigocia’s eyes. “There is a dark fog creeping about. That might have spooked the parrot. I felt danger when I saw the fog, but then Ham showed up. I think I might have felt him coming.”

“I see.” Thigocia lay back down and scooted farther into her corner. “Are you going to sleep?”

“No.” Makaidos lumbered back into the corridor. He lay on his belly but kept his head high as he turned to Thigocia. “I will wait here until Noah returns, and, if you are in agreement, I would like to attempt the covenant veil again.”

A sharp chill snapped Naamah awake. She gasped for air, flailing her arms, ready to battle the pounding waves, but rather than the wetness she expected, cool dry air bathed her body. Jerking her head back and forth, she tried to sort out the blurry images. Everything seemed to bounce around, jumping and shaking, but as her senses adjusted, a view of sea waves and foam came into focus below her. Her arms continued to beat the air, each flap taking her farther away from the water.

Glancing in the direction her hand should be, she caught a glimpse of a wing, a pinion of leather that ended in a wrinkled, sharp-nailed paw. It clutched something, but she couldn’t remember what might be in her grip. In fact, she couldn’t remember anything after Morgan shoved her out the window. Had she really died and turned into a wraith like her sister? But the body she inhabited wasn’t like a raven. Her wings were too leathery, and she had strange fingers instead of talons. What kind of animal had she become? A bat?