Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Makaidos stretched out his body on the carpet of fledgling grass. The sun’s warm rays felt like the massage of strong, healing hands as each scale soaked up the delicious radiance, recharging every aspect of his dragon nature. Thigocia slept next to him, her long neck curled around the base of his. The scales on his other side begged for sunlight, but he didn’t want to turn over and awaken his mate. As close to death as she had come during the months of darkness, she needed sleep as much as she needed the sun’s precious energy.

A loud trumpet blast sounded from the water’s edge. Makaidos lifted his head toward the ark. Japheth and Shem were leading the elephants through Eve’s door, the new calf following close behind. The male trumpeted a second time, as if saluting the bright rainbow that painted the misty clouds to the west.

Makaidos sighed. The rainbow promised a spectrum of joy, each color representing a different bliss in the new paradise. The sun poured down warmth from a clean, clear sky, baking virgin earth that yearned to sprout new offspring from her cleansed womb. The rich soil carried no trace of footprints from either man or demon. Every Watcher and Naphil had perished, and the world now held no memory of their corruption. The weary souls on the ark seemed refined by fire, rejoicing in each moment, bouncing with every step on the newly purged earth.

Resting his head on Thigocia’s abdomen, Makaidos listened for signs of life within a gurgle, a click, a soft hum that played in Makaidos’s mind like a glorious hymn. He closed his eyes and smiled. Maybe this world would be a safe place for dragon younglings after all.

As he tried to sleep, dozens of noises disturbed the quiet parrots squawking, cattle mooing, even the buzzing of a bee in his ear. Still, one odd sound rose above the others. He perked up his ears. A haunting voice blew by, like a ghost whispering a song in the breeze.

The chill of danger swept across his scales. He raised his head again. A stream of dark mist flowed across both dragons. Curling around his snout like a translucent python, the mist wrapped his face and shrouded his eyes. Makaidos leaped to his feet and thumped his tail. “Thigocia!” he shouted. “Awake!”

The ground vibrated, and Thigocia’s voice rumbled. “What is this darkness?”

“A mist. Something wicked.”

“I thought I felt a presence, but I could not be sure.”

“Listen,” Makaidos said. “It sings.”

“Shall I call for help?”

“Shh!”

Both dragons fell silent. Makaidos concentrated on the whispered aria, a lilting melody that played like a fresh breeze on tender grass.

Your heart of gold should never fear

Arrival of the dawn,

For each new day shall bring new hope

As moon begets the sun.

Erase your mind, O dragon wise,

And let your gates be breached.

The time has come to greet new thoughts

Your maker failed to teach.

For wisdom comes when laws of old

Are swept like spiders’ webs,

And minds like yours discover truth

In life’s new flows and ebbs.

For how can wisdom’s laws be true

When taught from books to squires?

Experience stands as wisdom’s tool

To guide you through the mire.

O let me in to teach you songs

That come from heaven’s lights.

You’ll never fail to conquer foes

And rule o’er kings and knights.

For man corrupts and soils his own;

The world will die again.

His lust for blood and gold and flesh

Destroys what dragons mend.

Makaidos clenched his eyes shut and pawed at the streaming mist. “Do not listen! It sings foul words!”

“Too late. I heard every syllable.”

“Then do not heed them!”

“I knew that much! But how do we get rid of the mist? It is blinding me!”

“Close your eyes!” Makaidos shot a blast of hot gasses in the direction of Thigocia’s voice. “Can you see now?”

“Yes! Your turn!”

Makaidos kept his eyes closed while hot air, smelling of burning sulfur, bathed his face. His vision cleared, and a wisp of black fog brushed by his ear, singing one last phrase before streaming toward the sea. “I will be back for your son.”

Makaidos blasted a flood of fire at the retreating blackness, but it was too late. The fog danced over the water and disappeared like evaporating mist. “If you dare come back,” the dragon bellowed, “I will melt your songs into screams of agony!” He turned to Thigocia. “Any harm done?”

“No. No song could ever turn my heart from the Maker.”

“Did you hear anything else, I mean, after the song?”

“No. Only the song.” Thigocia nudged Makaidos’s wing and snuggled under it. “What did you hear?”

Makaidos glared at the island’s shore. “Just a bully’s taunt. Malicious words are just noises in the wind.” He extended his wing over Thigocia’s body and stroked her flank. “With our danger sense getting strong again, we will be alerted if the mist tries to return.”

Thigocia rubbed her cheek against Makaidos’s neck. “You need not tell me about the taunt, if that is your wish, but I am curious.”

“I wish not to tell. Too much information can be dangerous.”

“Is the truth ever dangerous?” Thigocia asked, stretching to look into her mate’s eyes. “Even too much of it?”

Makaidos avoided eye contact. “If it is more than our hearts and minds can manage, yes.”

“I will remember that. Too much information can be too taxing on our brains.” Thigocia turned her ears outward. “The mist sounded like many voices. Do you have any idea who they were?”

“Yes. Although they drowned in the flood, their evil spirits must have somehow survived.”

“The Nephilim?”

Makaidos shifted his body toward the ark. “I have to warn Noah.” He stretched out his wings and tried to lift off the ground, but they faltered and fell limply to his flanks. He sighed and raised his brow. “It seems that my strength won’t fully return until we build our regeneracy domes. Will you walk with me?”

She shuffled to his side and nudged his ribs with her snout. “As if you could stop me.”

Ham pushed the tent flap open and ducked inside. A single candle burned near his father’s mat, barely enough light to see two elongated lumps on the opposite side of the tent. “I think I know where it might be,” he whispered.

Shhh!” Naamah warned, following him. “Just take it and leave.”

As Ham’s eyes adjusted, he could distinguish the shapes of his father and mother sleeping peacefully, their arms interlocked. He stopped suddenly, then stepped back. “He’s. . he’s uncovered.”

Naamah laid a hand on his back. “What did you expect? The wine was strong.”

Gazing at Noah, Ham smirked. “The great man of God, drunk and naked. Now who’s bringing shame to the family?”

Naamah pushed him forward. “Just take it.”

Ham skulked to his father’s side and fumbled through the clothes that lay on the ground. Ah! Chereb! He picked it up, but his father’s robe came along with it. He pulled at the knot that tied the sword to the robe. “It’s stuck!” he hissed.

Noah stirred, his eyes blinking. Ham froze and waited for his father to settle, hoping his drunken eyes wouldn’t see clearly. When he seemed to rest quietly again, Ham tiptoed back to Naamah with the robe. “I can’t unfasten it.”

“Just bring it all!”

Ham and Naamah slipped out of the tent, but just as they turned toward their own tent, Shem and Japheth hailed them from a distance. Ham held the robe and sword behind his back while Naamah clawed at the knot. Just as Ham’s brothers drew near, Naamah whispered, “I have it. I’ll hide it under my robe.”