Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Her mistress raised a watering can over a tiny potted plant. As always, she crooned in a haunting contralto.

To grow and live, escape the flames

Of darkest nights and endless toil,

O stretch and thrive my precious flower

And drink the rain from fertile soil.

As she sprinkled the plant, it stretched out two stalks at its sides, like a man waking after a long nap. A thumb-sized pod between the two stalks turned its face toward her, two eyelets blinking as drops streamed down its green skin.

Naamah smiled and continued her song, cooing at the pod as a mother would to a baby.

A day will come, my little child,

When roots transform to warrior’s feet

And stalks become tight fists of steel

To grind all men like sifted wheat.

Mara walked in, but a new shadow from the far side of the cavern glided into view. Morgan! Mara stopped and clenched her teeth. What now? She couldn’t run back to the passageway. Morgan would notice for sure. She froze in place and listened.

Morgan stepped into the light and applauded. “The echo compliments your voice, Naamah. It’s more beautiful than ever.”

Naamah spread out her black dress and curtsied. “The male plants seem especially fond of my singing.” She chucked the pod under its tiny chin. “This one is my favorite.”

“Actually, the females are more important right now.” Morgan waved her arm toward Mara. “The most impetuous of the girls seems smarter and more talented than any males in the land above, though she can be treacherous enough to betray even a twin sister.”

Mara balled her hands into fists. She wanted to stomp her foot and shout a defense, but that would just prove Morgan’s “impetuous” comment. She breathed deeply and buried the insult in the pit of her stomach along with all the others. Still, heat rose past her cheeks and inflamed her ears. She hoped Morgan wouldn’t notice.

Morgan glared at Mara. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I. .” Mara swallowed and took a tentative step forward. “I’ve come for a new spawn. My growth chamber is ready.”

Morgan raised her eyebrows. “Has Mardon checked the magnets?”

“He taught me how.” Mara withdrew her vial and held it up. “The magnets are perfect.”

Morgan’s frown slackened, but her brow stayed taut. “Very well.” She turned to Naamah. “Is number four of suitable size?”

“Yes.” Naamah pointed at a plant near the passageway, close to where Mara stood. “It’s almost too big for the pot already.”

Morgan nodded at the plant. “Get it and be on your way. I’ll be by to check its growth soon enough. Your chamber had better be perfectly balanced, or you’ll take the next step past banishment.”

Mara tried not to flinch, but she couldn’t help it. She knew what that meant. As she thought of the terror in Acacia’s face, her lantern flickered weakly, as if sympathizing with her pain. She gathered the pot in one arm and hustled back into the passage, but her lantern winked out, leaving her in darkness except for the light from the seedling room behind her. Mara halted. Could she go all the way through the dark part of the tunnel without a light? Would the bats notice her? She turned back and leaned against the wall, peering at Morgan and Naamah. She didn’t want to ask for light, not while Morgan was still around. Maybe she would leave soon through the other tunnel, then Naamah might help her. Naamah was always the more patient of the two, though that wasn’t saying much.

Mara breathed a quiet sigh and set her lantern on the floor. Being banished had one advantage. Nabal wouldn’t be waiting with a whip. In fact, no one would notice her absence until bed check. She could just watch and listen, and maybe learn more about the land above.

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “As I was about to say, the females will never be giantesses; at least according to Mardon’s genetic analysis. But we need more laborers than Nephilim candidates right now. Once the hive is complete with thriving giants, we’ll keep a few of the strongest and stupidest females for laborers, then throw the rest in the chasm.”

Mara gulped. She probably wasn’t supposed to hear that. Who would be chosen to live? She rubbed a finger along her toned bicep. She was strong, but not the strongest of the female laborers, and far from stupid. Crouching low, she hugged her plant close.

Naamah carried her pot to a dimly lit wall and set it on the end of a shelf of identical pots. Each one held a human-like seedling, some barely poking up from the soil and others as tall as the breadth of her hand. She turned the pot so the plant could see her. “I began to wonder what happened to you, Sister. You’ve been gone for weeks.”

“Months, actually. Time shifts in strange ways between the upper and lower worlds. I’m beginning to think time is slowing down here, since the older spawns have slowed their aging.”

“Did you bring more produce?” Naamah asked. “We ran out of fruit days ago.”

“It’s in the pantry. Nimrod’s farms are producing well.”

Naamah dipped her finger into the potting soil, then pulled it out, examining the mud on the tip. “Is there any other news from above?”

“Yes. It seems that Mardon has a solution to why our hybrids aren’t thriving.”

“They need more light, don’t they?” Naamah wiped the mud on a cloth hanging on the shelf. “I always said that plants should be out in the sun where they ”

“No,” Morgan interrupted. “Almost the opposite. It seems that the flood did more than simply snuff out innocent lives and scrub the planet. All light is harsher now, brighter than before, so the seeds I took from Samyaza are too pure, even when we dilute them with Canaan’s genes. They make a plant that grows poorly when exposed to any kind of light, even lantern light and magneto radiance down here.”

“How can Mardon fix a problem like that? Even he isn’t smart enough.”

“You might be surprised. Mardon and his scientists are confident they can do anything. Right now they’re working on a tower that already reaches past the clouds.”

Naamah’s eyebrows shot up. “Past the clouds?! May I go above and see it?”

“Only if you go after dark and in your winged form.” Morgan looked up at the cavern’s high ceiling. “There’s a full moon tonight, so you should be able to see the tower.”

“Even if I can’t, being a bat for a while is better than being stuck in this cave.”

“Patience. Just a few more weeks. One of the craftsmen is building a home for us on the surface. It still has to be in this dimension, but at least you’ll be able to go there whenever you wish.”

“Not as a bat?” Naamah asked.

“As long as you’re in the circles of seven, you can be yourself.”

“Good.” Naamah fanned her face with her hand. “The air down here gets stuffy, and flying makes me tired.”

“Don’t worry. The house will be on a lovely island, and I planted apple trees and gardenias all around. Soon the air on our island will be saturated with the scents of wisdom and life.”

“Will we have any company up there?” Naamah asked.

“The circles are filling with the souls of humans who wander in the land of the dead, but the serpents I put in the waters around the island will protect us from their interference.” Morgan caressed Naamah’s delicate arm. “Still, we have a boat, and you will be free to stalk the shores and sing a victim into your clutches whenever you wish.”

“Perfect. I’ve been practicing a song just for that purpose.” Naamah smiled, and for a brief second, a pair of fangs appeared over her bottom lip.

Mara nearly fell backwards. What kind of creature was Naamah, anyway?