Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

She dropped to all fours and peered into the hole. It reminded her of the abyss she and Paili had dangled over, but this one breathed no streams of light and had no gems lining its walls. Still, an odd wind seemed to try to suck her downward, whipping at her dress and coif as she leaned over the precipice.

She whispered to her torch. “Give as much light as you can.” As the fire blazed, she reached it into the hole, extending it to one side, then the other. Nothing. Just blackness as far as the eye could see.

Pulling up and resting on her knees, she looked back at the iron gate and the dark path home. She set her torch on the ground, allowing the fiery head to blaze over the pit. “I failed,” she muttered. “I said this was my last try, and there’s nothing new.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Elam’s probably long dead anyway, so what’s the use?”

A sudden gust caught the torch and nudged it off its perch. Sapphira lunged for it as it sailed into the hole, but her hands grasped empty air. The torch fell into the darkness, a shrinking light beaten about by changing crosswinds. And then it stopped. The tiny flame flickered steadily, yet far away.

Sapphira leaned her head into the hole. There was a bottom to this pit after all, but who could ever survive such a plunge? As she studied the distant light, a strange sound entered her ears, a rough, rumbling growl. She jerked her head up and spun around on her knees. Stalking toward her, a huge dog bared its teeth, a rainbow of colors shimmering across its body from the tips of its triangular ears to the end of its pointed tail.

Sapphira tried to stand, but her knees collapsed, and she fell to her seat. She pressed her hands against the floor and slid backwards, but with the pit only inches behind her, she couldn’t go much farther.

As the dog approached, taking one stalking step at a time, its growl deepened. The lanterns at the gate threw the beast’s shadow over her, yet with her vision crystal clear, she could see every pulsing capillary in its bloodshot eyes.

Sliding back another inch, she teetered on the edge of the pit. The image of Paili’s face flashed in her mind. Who would take care of her? Who would protect her when Morgan led her to the edge of the chasm? Would another innocent underborn suffer Acacia’s fate?

A sense of heat radiated against her thigh the Ovulum in her pocket, emanating a soothing warmth for the first time in centuries. That was all the answer she needed.

With a final push, Sapphira fell backwards into the pit.

Arthur and Edward stopped their horses at a low ridge overlooking the troops as they lined up only a stone’s throw away. The skies had darkened, and light rain dampened their heads. The king nodded at a scarlet-robed old man standing in front of the regiment. “It looks like we’re too late to ask Merlin about the sword,” Arthur said. “I will have to learn to use it in battle.”

As the rain grew heavier, Merlin paced in front of the soldiers, his hands behind him and his robe swishing. His powerful strides belied his wild, white hair and wrinkled face, and his resonating voice matched his vigor. “Men and dragons,” he shouted, “we are not here today to cross blades with men of equal stature. Though their men stand taller and their armor repels our sharpest arrows, though their numbers make them seem as thick as rats in a latrine, in the end, they are lesser men than we.”

A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and large raindrops plastered Merlin’s hair against his forehead. “As they have marched from village to village,” he continued, “these barbarians have murdered children and committed unspeakable acts against every female, from the very young to the very old. And they have attacked at night, cowardly spearing the fighting men in their slumber and rolling their severed heads into the middle of the streets, laughing as they committed their crimes against the women and children in the public squares, thinking the God of the universe could not see their abominations or will not lift up his iron fist and smash their vermin bodies with one mighty blow.”

Arthur’s men shook their fists and shouted. “Smash the vermin!” The dragons thumped their tails on the ground, plumes of smoke rising from their nostrils as they clawed the muddy path.

“You are better men than they,” Merlin continued, lifting his voice even higher. “You follow Arthur, the king who has given his life and rule to the greatest king of all, Christ, the Lord!”

The men shouted, “Christ, the Lord!” and began clanking their swords against their shields. The dragons remained silent, though they continued to paw the ground restlessly.

“Yes!” Merlin yelled. “With the word of God as your sword, and faith as your shield, you cannot fail!” As another loud clap of thunder echoed his shouts, Merlin stripped off his robe, revealing a suit of silver chain mail and a scabbard attached to a strap on his back. “So march!” He pulled a sword from the scabbard and lifted it high. “We will send these rats back to their latrine, and they will learn what it means to offend the heart of the living God!”

Merlin strode ahead on the path. The men followed him, waving their swords and shouting huzzahs. Barlow raised his new shield and marched side by side with the prophet. At the far end of the pack, Sir Devin walked alongside Palin, the king’s scribe. The two inclined their heads toward each other as if in conversation and drifted farther back in the lines.

The dragons lifted off the ground, two without riders, one reddish and one beige. Edward blew a shrill whistle through his fingers and waved his arm. “Thigocia!” he shouted. “Over here!”

The beige dragon circled back and grabbed Edward right off his horse with her tail. With a quick flip, she slung him into the air, then dove underneath and caught him on her back, wedging him perfectly between two spines. Edward grasped the spine in front of him and hung on, unable to breathe.

Arthur shouted into the sky through his cupped hands. “That’ll teach you to call for a dragon as you would a dog!”

Edward exhaled and shouted forward. “I apologize, dragoness. I am not aware of every aspect of dragon protocol.”

A sly grin broke through on Thigocia’s draconic lips. “Apology accepted, but it was necessary to give you an in-flight mounting lesson before the battle begins. Makaidos already gave Newman his.”

“Really? How did he do?”

“Except for a spine ripping the back of his trousers, he did quite well.”

As the troops marched closer to Weary Hill, the dragons rose toward the dark clouds, shielding themselves from sight in the swirling rain. Flying low enough to pierce the mists with their eyebeams, they guarded the right flank while staying out of sight.

Edward blinked at the sharp, stinging raindrops. “What do you see?” he shouted.

Thigocia aimed her beams at the ground. “Merlin and Barlow are charging. They must have spotted the enemy.”

Edward mopped his brow with his sleeve, but it didn’t help much. “Is anyone coming on the right? Do you sense anything at all?”

“No sign of them. The enemy seems concentrated on the direct attack.”

Edward pointed downward. “Then let’s help on the front lines!”

Thigocia turned off her eyebeams. “Makaidos? Did you hear the young knight?”

“Yes,” Makaidos replied. “You and I will join the battle, along with Legossi, Valcor, and Hartanna. Clefspeare will stay and guard the flank.” He swung his head back toward the riderless dragon. “Is that well with you?”

Clefspeare nodded. “I am at your service, my king.”

As the five dragons glided toward the lowest layer of clouds, Thigocia drifted closer to Hartanna. “You know Clefspeare better than I do. Can he handle the flank by himself?”