Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Arthur laughed. “My good soldiers, I cannot take any of your weapons. Then you would be disarmed and ”

A haunting moan drifted in from the swamp, starting with a loud hum that slowly formed a stretched-out call. “Arthurrrrrr!” The voice seemed to stir the mist with its breathy echoes. Every man and dragon shifted toward the sound, the swords swinging away from the king and toward the shadowy water.

Near the shore, a ghostly female form hovered over the swamp, her long hair and gown flowing as the mist swirled all around her. With her body veiled, she seemed a phantom, perhaps even an embodiment of the mist itself. She raised her arm, holding an indistinguishable object in her hand.

Edward shifted his weight on Thigocia’s neck, trying not to tremble. The sound of murmuring filtered through the ranks.

Arthur raised his hand. “What are we? A pack of boys playing at war? Where is your courage?” He turned to Makaidos, his eyes alternately fixed on him and the phantom. “Do you sense danger from her?”

“Without a doubt, Sire. If she is not a demon, then she is something akin to one.”

“But she bears a gift,” Thigocia added, “and it is something holy.”

“How do you know?” the king asked.

“I can sense it.” Thigocia turned on her eyebeams and pointed them at the apparition. “Her aspect gives her away. She holds the gift as if it is abhorrent to her essence, as if its goodness invades her nature like a foreign army.”

The voice drifted in again, louder and more pleading. “Arthur, I have been called to give you the ultimate weapon.” With a mighty heave, she threw the object toward them, a sword spinning end over end until it pierced the ground near the shoreline.

Devin stepped forward. “Shall I fetch it for you, Sire?”

Arthur laid a hand on Devin’s chest and called out to the floating specter, “Who are you, and why do you offer this gift?”

“You may call me the Lady of the Lake. You will need this sword to conquer your greatest foes. It is called Excalibur, for it can cut both steel and stone. You will also learn to use its most powerful secret, the secret of holy fire.” The mist created a whirlpool of fog over the surface of the water that seemed to absorb her ghostly form. “Beware of those who call themselves friends,” she said as she sank lower, “for ambitious usurpers will bide their time with smiles and bows while they await their chance to take your throne.” She disappeared, and the swirling mist settled to complete stillness.

Arthur marched toward the swamp, waving his arm. “Edward,” he called, “come with me. The rest of you move to the front lines, and I will join you there as soon as possible.”

Edward pointed at himself, mouthing his own name.

Newman kicked his ankle. “You’re the only Edward around here! Get your carcass down and follow the king!”

Thigocia lowered her neck, and Edward climbed down as he had been taught, stepping across the first three spines, then jumping the rest of the way. He looked back at the dragon and nodded respectfully. “I think you’d better go with the others. The king made no exceptions.”

“Very well,” Thigocia replied, dipping her head.

Makaidos stretched out his wings. “Leave a horse tied for each of them, and we will be on our way.”

Edward hustled to join the king and marched side by side with him, trying to catch his breath. “I apologize. . Your Majesty. I didn’t. . consider myself worthy to ”

“Exactly why I called you,” the king said, clapping Edward’s shoulder. “When the lake spirit said to beware of my counselors, the truth of her words resonated in my heart. I have long believed that someone is plotting to wrestle away my throne, so I need to take action to prevent it.”

“Will you trust this spirit, Sire? The dragons warned that she is dangerous.”

“Dangerous to them, perhaps.” He stopped and looked back at the dragons as they circled low over the departing ground troops. Sirs Devin and Barlow led the way down a path toward Weary Hill.

Arthur lowered his voice. “Dragons cannot always distinguish the target of danger, and Thigocia declared that the sword appears to be holy.”

Edward eyed the leading knight, clad in dark mail and marching quickly. “Do you believe Sir Devin? Are all dragons possessed by evil spirits?”

The king continued toward the edge of the swamp, slower now as the mists surrounded them. “I don’t know whom to believe, so I brought you here to ask your help. I will make a formal pronouncement later, but you are now a knight. I want you to befriend both Sir Devin and the dragons. Get them to trust you. Learn their secret counsels, and report your findings to me.”

Edward tried to keep a proud smile from bursting forth as he walked beside the king, but he couldn’t calm his breathless voice. “And what of Merlin? He is your closest advisor.”

“Merlin would never turn from me, but he would also never act as a spy. He trusts Makaidos without question, so you must make sure you hide your efforts from him.”

“I will be sure to avoid him.” Edward shook his head. “I have never understood his loyalty to those creatures.”

With the mists now completely enveloping them, Arthur stopped again and laid a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Your distrust of dragons is warranted, but you will do well to keep your mind from prejudice. I just want the truth.”

Edward glanced at the gloved hand, his smile now breaking through. “Yes, Sire. I understand.”

Both men turned toward the water’s edge and closed in on the lady’s gift. The sword stood on its point, about a third of its length driven into the moss-speckled loam. Edward knelt close to it and examined its hilt and blade. “It’s magnificent! The workmanship of a master craftsman!”

Arthur grasped the hilt. “At least this one isn’t in stone.” He pulled, withdrawing the blade easily. “It seems that the Lady of the Lake had no scabbard for me,” he said, holding the blade high.

“Or instructions, Sire.”

“Indeed. The lady’s mention of secret fire reminds me of a legend I heard as a child. Such a weapon could mean the difference between victory and defeat in the coming battle.” The king turned the hilt around in his hand. “But I have no idea how to use it.”

“May I suggest inquiring of Master Merlin? I can fly to the castle with Thigocia and bring him back.”

“No need. He will be on the front lines by now, exhorting the troops. We’ll meet him there, but we’d better hurry. He won’t wait to command the march if he believes God has given the word.” Arthur slid Excalibur into his old scabbard. “If the sword’s fire is as powerful as I have heard, maybe today will prove that we won’t need the dragons ever again.”

Sapphira stood on the top rung of the ladder, stretching to reach the upper edge of the highest shelf in the museum’s library. Grabbing it with her fingertips, she pulled herself up and slid her feet in the usual spaces between stacks of scrolls. With a muffled grunt, she swung her body up on top of the shelf. Fortunately, Anak stood guard on the other side of the museum’s wall, out of sight and out of hearing range.

Resting for a moment, she looked out from her lofty perch. Her vision had already become sharper, the first sign that a portal was near, the clue that had helped her find this one years ago when she was searching the top shelf for something new to read. For some reason, this portal was invisible, not a column of light like the others in the below lands, maybe because it originated in the world above.

Darkness veiled the distant floor, but with her enhanced vision, she could still see the ring of twelve statues saluting the focal tree. Not far above, the room’s ceiling arched to a peak at the center a dome covered with crisscrossing lattice. Two horizontal support beams intersected beneath the dome, one of them attached to the wall next to Sapphira.