Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Nabal lowered his whip and pointed at Acacia. “A food thief, Mistress.”

Morgan held out her hands, and Acacia dropped the loaves into them. “You stole the bread?” Morgan asked.

Acacia nodded. Morgan walked slowly past her and touched the wound on Mara’s shoulder as it bled through her outer tunic.

“Alone?” Morgan rubbed Mara’s blood between her finger and thumb.

Acacia’s eyes grew wide. She spoke quickly. “Nabal is a fool. He hit Mara when he should have hit me.” She pressed her thumb against her chest. “I stole the bread. I should be punished.”

Morgan brushed breadcrumbs from the material around Mara’s pocket. “I see.” Taking Nabal’s whip, she wound it up around her hand, her gaze locked on Mara. “Nabal, dismiss the laborers to the trenches and come with me. Bring these two girls with you.”

“Get to work!” Nabal bellowed. He then grabbed Mara and Acacia by their wrists and followed Morgan as she headed down a sloping tunnel. Nabal’s powerful grip seemed to squeeze the blood from Mara’s arm and shoot it up to her head until her brain pounded against her skull.

Morgan finally exited the tunnel through a tall, wide door. Nabal half dragged the girls through it and stood them on a spacious ledge that overlooked a deep, fiery chasm. As Mara blinked at the bright magma river below, she swallowed, hoping she didn’t look too scared.

Morgan eyed them both. She tore off Acacia’s coif and ran her fingers through the long tresses that fell to her waist. “If it wasn’t for the length of your hair” she yanked Mara’s coif away, letting her hair fall to her shoulders “and for Mara’s wound, I wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart.”

Morgan hooked her arm around Mara’s elbow and pulled her to the edge of the cliff. “Stand here,” she ordered.

Mara bent her knees, wobbling in place and hugging herself as she kept her eyes on Acacia.

In the same way, Morgan walked Acacia to the edge, then, keeping hold of her arm, she glared at Mara. “Your friend was ready to take whatever punishment you deserved. Do you think that’s a noble gesture?”

Mara couldn’t answer. She trembled harder and began crying.

“I’ll show you how noble it is. Watch and learn.” Morgan released her grip on Acacia and shoved her with both hands, sending her over the ledge.

Acacia plummeted toward the river of fire, her arms flailing and her cries piercing Mara’s ears. “Maraaaaa!”

Her body splashed in the magma, silencing her forever. Mara fell to her knees and sobbed, coughing, heaving, until she collapsed and fainted.

“Acacia!” Mara yelled, sitting up in bed. She bumped her head on the stone that covered her dugout.

“Mara?” Paili called out. “You okay?”

Mara rubbed her scalp. “I’m all right. Go back to sleep.” She slid out of bed, but as she tiptoed for the dugout opening, a scratching noise arose from the wall somewhere behind her. Spinning on the balls of her feet, she faced the direction of the sound and stared into the darkness, listening intently.

Scritch, scritch.

Mara inched closer. Could it be Qatan? She had never seen the little scavenger, but the bread she saved for him always disappeared. And now, even if she could stay quiet enough not to spook him, it was too dark to catch a glimpse of either whisker or tail.

A wisp of light passed by the inside of the hole, fast and fleeting. Lowering herself to hands and knees, Mara scooted quietly toward the base of the wall. She held her breath and imagined the layout of the caverns in her mind’s eye, but when she tried to draw the room just beyond her hovel, she couldn’t think of what might be there. She had always assumed it was an unused cave, the kind of place Qatan might want for his home.

The light came again, and this time it stayed, illuminating the hole in the wall.

Scritch, scritch.

A pair of fingers poked out, reaching, probing. Finally, an entire hand emerged, and the index finger swept Mara’s bread morsel into its grip. As the hand slowly pulled back, Mara lunged forward. “Wait!”

The hand stopped for a second, then slid back farther.

“Wait!” Mara repeated. “Who are you?”

The hand disappeared. Mara pounded her fist on the wall. “Who’s there?”

A muffled male voice replied. “My name is Elam.”

“Elam?” Mara laid her cheek on the floor and spoke directly into the hole. “My name’s Mara. Are you one of the brick-making boys?”

“I am a brick maker,” came the reply. “But I am the only one.”

“I heard there were at least two. What happened to the other boy?”

His reply seeped through like a quiet breeze. “We don’t need as many bricks as before, so she terminated him.”

“She? Do you mean Morgan?”

“Yes. She told Nabal to beat him with his whip until he died, and they made me watch.”

“How awful!”

“I still hear his screams in my nightmares.”

Mara sighed. “I know what you mean.” The image of Acacia flailing toward the molten river flickered through her mind again. She shook her head to expel the unwanted memories. “How did you learn to speak so well? Most of the girl laborers can hardly speak at all.”

“I could talk pretty well when they brought me here, but ”

“Brought you? Aren’t you an underborn?”

“No. I was taken from my parents when I was little and made a slave here, but I learned how to talk better by listening to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes. I listen to the stories you tell Paili.”

A strange tickle fluttered in Mara’s stomach, and a smile slowly spread across her face. “You do?”

“Not every night, and I never said anything, because I didn’t want you to get in trouble, but it seemed safe enough to sit and listen.” He paused for a moment. “I like to hear about dragons flying through the sky.”

“Me. .” Mara swallowed hard. “Me too.”

Her heart pounded through another pause. Finally, Elam continued, his voice lower and faltering. “I’d. . I’d like to see the sky again. . someday.”

“And a dragon,” Mara added.

Elam’s voice perked up. “My father used to tell me about dragons. He even knew their names, and I made up stories about them.”

Silence descended again, so heavy that Mara’s own breathing sounded like the rushing wind in the breezeway. “Do you miss your parents?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. I miss them a lot.”

“At least you had parents,” Mara said, furrowing her brow. “I never had any, so I don’t even have memories to cherish.”

“Memories are a curse,” Elam countered. “Losing something you had is worse than never having it at all.” He let out a deep, piteous sigh. “But I guess you wouldn’t know. You’ve never had anything, have you?”

“No. . I haven’t.” Mara’s lip quivered. She inserted her fingers into the hole. “Elam, please keep coming to listen. It’ll be good knowing you’re there.”

Elam’s fingers meshed with hers. “I’ll come, but I can’t talk until after Nabal drinks himself to sleep. That’s when I go hunting for food. He eats most of my dinner.”

The touch of his hand sent a wave of warmth through Mara’s body, radiating from head to toe and making her heart pound. She could barely squeak. “I’ll try to bring more food for you. Stay away from Nabal’s whip.”

“I will.” His fingers withdrew, and the light faded away.

Mara rolled to a sitting position and rested against the wall, trying to slow her heart. But it was all so exciting! Elam was the first laborer since Acacia who was smart enough to communicate, and he seemed so warm and friendly. She pulled her knees up to her chest, sighing. Yes, he was friendly. . and lonely.