Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Paili tugged on her dress. “Five more!” she shouted.

“Five more?” Sapphira looked down at her. “Why?”

“To make six! Like the wheel!” Paili turned an imaginary wheel.

Sapphira gasped and cried out, “Of course! The control room wheel!” She pointed at the spot to the left of the first statue. “Give me light!” she yelled. Another flame erupted, again creating a human form with its light. She moved to the next “Give me light!” then the next, until six human-shaped torches blazed in orange brilliance.

Breathless again, Sapphira lowered her hands. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew the flames out, and six men stood limply atop the blackened marble. As their bodies collapsed to the floor, Sapphira’s companions rushed to help them.

“Time for nine more!” Sapphira said, waving her arms. “Move those six over here!”

Groggy and groaning, they shuffled or crawled toward the center. Makaidos gazed carefully into the eyes of the first one, a young man who seemed to be in his late teens, and touched a ring on his finger. He nodded at Roxil and whispered, “It’s Hilidan.”

Sapphira lifted her hands again and pointed at the next spot in the circle. “Give me light!” Another statue of fire erupted. She repeated the process, this time moving around the circle in the opposite direction. Finally, the ninth fiery form appeared. She lowered her hands, and a new gust of wind snuffed the flames. Eight women and one girl, all dressed in white silk, crumpled to the floor. The four helpers rushed to guide them toward the center.

A stiff breeze kicked up, swirling around and buffeting Sapphira’s hair. She raised her hands once more, this time closing her eyes.

“We have all the dragons!” Makaidos shouted. “You did it! You can stop.”

“We’re not finished!” Sapphira shouted back. “There’s still the number thirteen.”

She pointed next to the spot where she had ignited the previous lantern. “Give me light!” Yet again, a human-shaped column of fire ignited.

“One!” Paili called out.

Then, going completely around the room, Sapphira lit the other eleven, Paili counting out each new lantern as it burst to life. Finally, when Paili’s shrill “Twelve!” was carried away by the gentle breeze, Sapphira opened her eyes and lowered her arms. This time, no gust of wind came to blow the flames out.

“We need a thirteen!” Paili cried.

Sapphira spread out her arms. “There aren’t any more places in the circle!”

Makaidos pointed at one of the flaming forms as it writhed in place. “I think they’re suffering! We have to do something!”

Sapphira closed her eyes. The portal center once again flooded her mind with grief. Acacia’s terrified face blazed across her inner vision, and her best friend’s muffled splash in the magma river echoed in her mind. As she opened her eyes, she whispered, “There is one more lantern!” She wrapped her arms around herself and, her eyes filling with tears, shouted as loud as she could, “Give me light!”

Sapphira’s hair erupted in flames. Streams of fire poured down her arms and chest, like magma rivulets coursing their way to her feet. She lifted her arms, and her whole body burst into an inferno, enveloping her in a spinning vortex of fire. When she lowered her arms, a new gust of wind, the strongest yet, nearly knocked her over.

As the tongues of fire ripped away into the breeze, a heavy weight grew against Sapphira’s chest, a girl leaning on her, completely covered in white, her dress, her skin, even her hair.

Sapphira draped her weary arms around the girl. “Acacia?” She ran her fingers through the girl’s thick white hair, barely able to breathe a whisper. “Is it really you?”

Acacia groaned, her face buried in Sapphira’s dress. “Where am I?”

Sapphira helped her sit down and lifted her chin. “Look. It’s me, Sapph. . I mean, Mara. Don’t you remember me?”

Acacia’s lips formed the first letter, “M. . M. .” Then, her eyes suddenly brightened, tears glistening in each as she whispered, “Mara?”

Sapphira grabbed her and hugged her close. “Yes! Yes! It’s Mara!” She rocked Acacia back and forth. “Oh, I missed you so much! I thought you were dead! I thought you were lost forever!” She pulled back and wiped tears from her eyes. “Do you remember what happened? I mean, what have you been doing all these centuries? Or have you been unconscious?”

Acacia pushed against the floor and rose to her feet. Sapphira rose with her and brushed the grit away from Acacia’s sleeves. “I remember falling and being sucked into something, then” she gestured toward the other twelve girls who were also rising to their feet “I saw my sister spawns all sitting around listening to an old man.”

“Sister spawns?” Sapphira tilted her head. “I don’t recognize any of them. I don’t see Taalah or Qadar.”

“You and I didn’t know these sisters. They were the first twelve.”

“Explain later.” Sapphira took her by the elbow. “Let’s get away from this place. It affects my mind in weird ways.”

“Me, too.” Acacia followed Sapphira’s lead down the tower mound’s gentle slope. “It feels dark and sad. Does that mean we’re not in heaven?”

“I’m not sure where we are, and I don’t know much about heaven, only what I read in Mardon’s scrolls.”

Acacia pushed her hair out of her face. “I don’t think heaven feels so depressing. My teacher told me it would be wonderful.”

“Who is your teacher?”

“He never told us his name.” Acacia shrugged. “We just called him Teacher.”

“Well, I hope he’s right about heaven. I wish I could be sure. Every place I’ve been is pretty depressing.”

The entire group gathered at the bottom of the slope. Makaidos stood at the center and lifted his hand in the air, twisting the ring on his index finger. “Our rings hold the traditional gem of the dragons, so I believe they are a symbol of the new life our Maker has given us in this place. Many of the dragons who died in or before the flood are here.” He waved for a young girl to come close. She wrapped one arm around his waist and leaned against his side. “Zera, my sister, made it.” He nodded at a young man who was straightening his clothes and another man wearing a bowler hat. “Hilidan and Clirkus, my two young warrior friends, as well.” He nodded again, this time at an older woman. “My mother, Shachar, is here, too.”

Roxil laid a hand on Shachar’s back and rubbed it tenderly. “But your father is not here. That proves Arramos is still alive.”

“Arramos could very well be alive.” Makaidos’s jaw tensed. “But that evil dragon who masquerades as my father is not Arramos.”

Shachar slid her arm around Makaidos’s waist, overlapping Zera’s grip. “Arramos is alive, my son. I do not know how long I have been floating in a senseless limbo, but I always felt his presence, and that made my wandering existence tolerable. If an evil dragon says he is Arramos, rest assured that he is a liar. My mate would never succumb to Lucifer’s song.”

“And on that truth, I will take my stand.” Makaidos brushed his lips across Shachar’s cheek, ending the gentle caress with a kiss. “Somehow, I will find him.”

“So what do we do now?” Hilidan asked. He quickly covered his lips with his fingers. “How strange. What kind of accent is that?”

Makaidos laughed. “You sound like one of the Celts.”

“I am fond of it,” Hilidan said. “It has the quality of song.”

“Indeed it does!” Makaidos clapped him on the back. “It seems that the Maker has given us unique human characteristics, including unique voices, body shapes, and personalities.”

“Unique?” Roxil grimaced. “That was not the word I had in mind.”