Bryan Davis: Eye of the Oracle

Makaidos unfurled his wings again. Bowing his head, he spoke softly. “If that is your will, Father.” With his gaze on the ground, he noticed the Ovulum, now dark and smeared with mud. He scooped it up in his clawed hand and let the rain wash away the grime. As the scarlet glass cleared, the image of a man’s face appeared deep within the crystal, a ruddy tint blushing his wrinkled cheeks. The man’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Makaidos closed his claws around it. Very strange! But it was a mystery that would have to wait.

He lifted into the air, nodding at Thigocia, and without another word the two young dragons soared into the weeping sky.

Japheth smeared a line of pitch across the joint between two planks. . the last two planks. Checking hundreds of seams had taken all day, but it had to be done. The huge boat sat in a rocky trench, untested for buoyancy or leaks. Only water, and plenty of it, could prove if the last hundred years of labor amounted to anything more than the biggest waste of time the world had ever known. He, for one, didn’t want to risk the lives of his whole family by slacking off for a single hour, especially now that the final day, the seventh day of the prophecy, was at hand.

Japheth ambled across a sagging rope-and-sapling bridge from the main deck to the rim of the trench and then into the shade of one of the dozen or so tall sycamores surrounding the ark. After wiping his hands with a fibrous rag, he picked up a flask and guzzled a long drink. Ah! He mopped his dripping chin with his sleeve. Water never tasted so good!

Taking his rag and his flask, he walked out onto the bridge again and peered down at his brother Shem about thirty feet below. The main door to the boat, which they called “Eve’s Door,” was wider than an elephant and as tall as a giraffe. It lay open inside the trench next to Shem, like a ramp awaiting more cargo to tromp aboard. A tense crease dug into Shem’s brow as he ran his hand over the hull.

Japheth reached his flask over Shem and poured out a trickle, hoping it would. . Yes! Right on his head!

Shem leaned back and held out his open palm.

“No, it’s not raining yet,” Japheth said, laughing.

Shem shook his head, running his fingers through his gray-speckled hair. “It will be soon. You’d better finish those seams.” He turned back to his work, his brow once again furrowing.

“My seams are done.” Japheth crouched on the swaying bridge to get a better look at the joint his brother was checking. “Will it hold?”

Shem dug his fingertip into the crack. “It’s sealed underneath.” He clambered up a tall ladder and hoisted himself out of the trench. Now standing on the land side of the bridge, he peeled away a shred of dried pitch from his hand. “I think that’s all. We’re finally ready.”

Japheth scrambled off the bridge and handed Shem the rag. “Then why the long face?” He nodded toward a bank of boiling clouds spreading across the darkening horizon. “It’s coming, but we’ll be fine.”

Shem wiped his hands, meticulously stripping pitch from each finger. “Exactly. Rain is coming.” He gestured toward the boat with his head. “Inside that hull, hundreds of hooves are trampling straw on a thousand cords of gopher wood.” He laid the rag over his shoulder and began counting on his fingers. “We have a cantankerous camel that spits at Father whenever he walks by, a parrot that never stops shouting, ‘Kill the skunks!’ two dogs that shed enough hair to make wigs for all of humanity, and a pair of elephants that are always ” Shem grimaced. “Well, let’s just say that I brought an extra shovel and a stack of empty bags.”

“Prolific pachyderms?” Japheth pinched his nose and laughed. “But even a big stink is no surprise. We knew the stalls would get filled with ”

“Shhh!” Shem grabbed Japheth’s shoulder. “Father is coming.”

Noah exited a wide door in the main quarters on the top deck, “Adam’s door,” as they called it, and ambled across the bridge, brushing a sticky splotch of gray hair off his forehead with his sleeve. “Fool camel,” he grumbled. “You’d think I’d have learned by now.”

Japheth elbowed Shem’s ribs and smiled, but Shem’s frown deepened.

“Father,” Shem said, stroking his beard, “we have a problem.”

Their father’s gaze lifted toward the darkening skies. “Still no dragons?”

“No sign of them,” Shem replied. “I have been watching all day.”

Japheth copied his brother’s serious aspect, forcing himself to frown as he cleared his throat. “I have a comfortable stall ready for them on our level, better than my own quarters, but I haven’t seen a plume of smoke or a scaly wing anywhere.”

The old man clasped Japheth on the shoulder. “They will come. God promised at least two of every breathing creature, so the dragons will be here before the flood can sweep them away.”

Japheth held out his hand. Tiny droplets moistened his palm and began to form a pool. Rain. Just as his father had prophesied. Ever since God had called out to Noah by name, he had been in close conversation with the Almighty, so why doubt him now? The dragons would come.

Japheth shook the water from his hand. “Shall we untie the bridge? The dragons could fly to the main deck.”

Noah shook his head. “Your brother has not returned.”

“Ham is gone again?” Japheth glanced into the trench at the cargo door’s rope and pulley system, still broken from the recent gorilla incident. “Where did he go? We have to get the door fixed. We won’t survive long if we don’t get it closed.”

“To the market for more grapes. It seems that those odd cat-like creatures” Noah encircled each of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger “the big-eyed ones that came from the South yesterday, are quite fond of them. And I wanted more grapes anyway for seed harvesting. When the flood ends, I want to plant a vineyard and ” The popping noise of cart wheels on pebbles interrupted him.

“Speak of the devil,” Japheth whispered to Shem. “Our brother has arrived.”

“And check out his two minions,” Shem whispered back. “They look. . well. . unnatural.”

Japheth scanned the ox-drawn cart, filled to overflowing with bunches of purple and green grapes. Sitting at the back with their bare feet hanging near the path, two women dressed in black glanced all around, their lips thin and taut.

When the ox halted, the shorter woman jumped off and quickly smoothed out her dress, pulling and tugging to cover as much skin as she could. Ham, his muscles flexing as he strained on the ox’s harness, cast a glance at his father and nodded, then turned to unload the grapes. “I have done as you asked, Father,” he said, keeping his eyes on the cart. “I have taken a wife. Her name is Naamah, Tubalcain’s sister.”

“Tubalcain?” Noah’s teeth clenched, his face reddening. “You married in the line of Cain? Why would you bring such shame upon our family?”

Ham carried a load of grapes and stopped in front of his father, his face expressionless. “You said to find a wife for procreating. You didn’t ask to approve her genealogy.” He hoisted the grapes higher in his arms and lumbered toward the boat, calling without looking back. “We met the other woman at the marketplace. She seeks an audience with you.”

Naamah grabbed as many grape clusters as she could and followed Ham, glancing briefly at the other female passenger before scurrying to catch up. She and Ham balanced their loads across the sapling bridge and disappeared through Adam’s door.

The other woman stepped down and shuffled toward Noah, carrying a sheathed sword in her extended arms. Tear tracks stained her face. When she drew near, she dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “I come in the name of Elohim,” she said softly. “I am Morgan, and I seek shelter from the coming flood. I have heard of your mercy, that you would never turn away a repentant soul. I beg you to take me in, for I am a poor sinner in search of salvation.”