Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

“Quiet, Valcor!” Hartanna scolded. “They are our brothers and sisters! Do you care nothing for their souls?”

Valcor swung his tail around and flicked her on the ear. “Are you still my twin sister, or are you already queen?”

Merlin chuckled. “Thigocia, have they always been like this?”

“Even in the womb,” Thigocia replied. “I do not wish twins on any dragon mother.”

“Yet, they illustrate our need for unity against our common foe.” Merlin interlaced his fingers over his chest. “After today, we can only be united in purpose, not in physical fellowship. I don’t trust Devin to keep his war against dragons within the confines of Goliath’s followers, so all of you should go into hiding. Gather gems and build the best regeneracy domes you can. Rest and gain strength until you hear from me again. Your danger sense will alert you if Devin’s war expands and approaches your cave.”

“And if the war comes?” Hartanna asked. “What then?”

“I am formulating an idea that will radically alter everything you have come to know, even those of you who have lived for thousands of years, but it will save your lives and your future. Because the plan is so drastic, I will not deploy it unless Devin’s bloodlust spreads. Even then, I will reveal the strategy only to the new king and queen, and they will prepare you for what will come to pass.”

“Master Merlin,” Thigocia said, her eyes shifting from one dragon to the next, “I want to reassure my descendants, for I sense their anxiety.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them, displaying new tears. Her voice trembled. “Each dragon here. . has its ultimate origin. . in my womb. . and I care for them beyond measure. I have lived for thousands of years, and I have known humans from every generation in the history of the world. Merlin, with the possible exception of Enoch himself, there has been none with more integrity than you. I trust you without reservation, and I am convinced that you are the new oracle. The spirit of Enoch and his son Methuselah rests on you like a mantle from above.”

Merlin brushed his sleeve across his eyes again. “Your words are kind, dear dragoness. I only hope that we will not have to pursue the measures I have in mind. If the plan bears fruit, however, I hope you will continue to trust me, for it will test your faith like nothing you can possibly imagine.”

He nodded toward Thigocia, Hartanna, Valcor, and finally, Clefspeare. “When you see me again, my friends, I fear that your lives will change forever.”

Holding her lighted torch, Sapphira stood next to Acacia at the center of the tower portal. The brood of twelve girls surrounded them, wearing the typical worker tunics, worn and ratty in places, yet cleaner and whiter than usual. “Just in case this portal leads to the top of the museum,” Sapphira said, “we should go one at a time. If we all pop onto the ceiling crossbeams, there’s no way they will hold us, and we couldn’t possibly sneak past Anak if we’re all together.”

Paili pulled on Sapphira’s sleeve. “Anak is gone.”

“Gone? Why?”

Paili closed her eyes and spoke slowly. “Morgan said she found your blood on the floor, so Anak went to hell.” She exhaled loudly and opened her eyes, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Sapphira covered her mouth and gasped between her knuckles. “To hell?”

Elam extended a finger. “That’s one obstacle out of the way.” He raised a handful of straw he had gathered. “Can I go first, you know, to check it out? I don’t want any of you to get hurt if Morgan’s around.”

Acacia took Elam’s free hand in both of hers and held it close to her chest. “Where did you find this gentleman, Mara? Our teacher told us that unselfish men were rare.”

Hot prickles dotted Sapphira’s neck. “My name is Sapphira now.” She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I guess we kind of found each other. . but, sure, Elam can go first.”

Elam laid most of the straw on the floor and tightened his fist around the small handful he kept. Sapphira touched the torch’s flame to the ends and stepped back. “Now wave it above your head in a circle.”

Elam swirled the small fire around, but the wind he created snuffed the tiny flame. Sapphira yelled, “Ignite!” and the flame shot up, quickly burning down toward Elam’s hand. “Faster!” she shouted.

Elam whirled the flame so fast, it looked like a single line of orange. The line expanded and dropped like a falling curtain until it reached the floor and covered Elam’s body with a flickering veil. Suddenly, he vanished, leaving only a few scattered ashes on the floor.

Acacia took Elam’s place. “I should go next,” she said. “The girls know me, so I should be there when they arrive.”

Sapphira chewed on her lip. “Okay,” she said, shifting on her feet again. “Get some straw.”

Acacia took a handful from the floor and copied Elam’s actions. After she disappeared, Sapphira instructed the others to follow Paili first, then the twelve new arrivals. Each one gave her name, and Sapphira tried to lock them into her mind. The girls seemed to come in matching sets of three, and within each trio, the spawns looked so much alike it would be impossible to tell them apart later. From trio to trio, they ranged from the darkest human skin she had ever seen to complexions as light as her own, and the hair of the dark girls seemed thick and crinkly, while the fair-skinned girls had light, baby-fine hair.

When the last spawn disappeared, one of three olive-skinned girls with carelessly cropped short hair, Sapphira shuffled into place. All the amazing events of the day confused her thoughts and chased the new names from her memory. She gazed down at the former dragons. Makaidos had found a mallet and was swinging it at the base of one of the remaining idols. Obviously, he wanted to get his job done in a hurry, but, although several idols already lay crumbled, this one seemed to defy his most powerful blows.

Sapphira raised her torch. In one sense, Makaidos had it easy. He knew exactly what to do. If only Elohim would give her straightforward commands, she would be glad to obey them, wouldn’t she?

As she swirled the torch in a wide circle, sadness again swept across her mind. She would soon be back in Morgan’s world, now a fugitive who would have to avoid the dark mistress at all costs. But how? Morgan seemed to know so much more than anyone.

The torch’s light grew into a wall of flames and descended toward her feet. As her legs began to transform, a familiar warmth caressed her thigh. She pressed her free hand against the Ovulum and smiled. Maybe someone knew more than Morgan did. Maybe soon, when she needed him most, he would prove it.

As Merlin strode toward the throne room, a guard pushed the doors open and shouted into the inner chamber. “Merlin, prophet of the Most High and advisor to His Majesty, has arrived.”

Merlin entered, shaking his head as he tromped across the newly installed red carpet. Ever since Devin had been accepted as one of the king’s knights, he insisted on all this silly pomp and heraldry. Merlin had the urge to spit something nasty on the floor. Devin should sweep up all this nonsense and take it with him to

“Hello, Merlin!”

Merlin jerked his head up. Devin smiled, pretentiously friendly, as always, when preening for an audience. The knight, dressed completely in black, stood next to the king, who was seated at his usual place, centered near the front of the platform. Although he rested comfortably on his newly installed throne, his eyes stared straight ahead. They seemed glazed. . distant. . as if his mind wandered elsewhere.

The loyal knights Lancelot, Gawain, and the others stood at floor level facing the king, each one dressed in typical finery, though most of them flinched and shifted, as though aching to scratch themselves.