Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

“Ah! So in Arthur’s court you only suspected my true identity, did you?” Morgan leaned back in her seat and smiled. “Still, it would have been easy for you to prove my lack of normal humanness, but you chose to suffer embarrassment instead. I must know your reason.”

The white king advanced one square, slashing in front of him with a gleaming blade. The black knight leaped back to its previous space.

Merlin tightened his grip on his sword. “The king would have demanded Excalibur from me and executed you on the spot. He suffers no sorceress to live in his domain.”

“The king would have demanded nothing of the sort. A potion I gave him saw to that. He was so strong, it took a triple dose, but his brain was sufficiently muddled in time for the council of war.”

Merlin sighed. “I thought he seemed rather confused that day.”

“Still,” Morgan continued, “you sacrificed your standing to keep me safe. Why do you care if I live or die? What am I to you?”

He glanced between Morgan and the chessboard’s black queen. Both flashed shining red eyes. “According to my research,” he said, “you could be more human than you realize. You still have a soul a dark, corrupt soul, but a soul, nonetheless.”

“And you, in your vacuous perception of the higher moral ground, want to save my soul.” Morgan sneered at him. “How noble of you.”

Merlin folded his hands on the table. “I’m not seeking nobility, but if you wish to learn how to be redeemed, there might yet be a way. First, however, you would have to obtain a new body.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Morgan stood and rubbed her hands along her hips. “I can mold this body into any shape I choose.”

“Shape without substance is a mere shadow. I know you want more.”

She stood and slinked toward him. “Of course I do. I always want more, and I always get what I want.” She touched the top of his head and swirled his hair around her finger.

Merlin shot to his feet, toppling his chair as he stepped back. “You cannot have what belongs to another.”

Morgan laid her hands on his shoulders and pouted. “Why can I not be your Gwendoloena, at least while you’re here?” Her hands slid toward his cheeks, and she pursed her lips. “After all, what happens in the circles of the dead remains a secret forever. No one needs to know what you do here.”

He grabbed her wrists and glared at her purple-stained palms. “My wife’s name is Gwendoloena only in my songs, for I would never tell you her real name, and no power-draining spell is going to make me betray her.”

Morgan’s arms melted into wisps of smoke, and she backed away, laughing. “Everyone has a price of betrayal, Merlin. I just have to find what your thirty pieces of silver is.”

Merlin banged his fist on the table, toppling half the chessmen on the squares. “I am no fool, Morgan. It is not my wife you seek to betray.”

“And that is why I will let you live.” Morgan waved her hand over the board, and the pieces aligned themselves in their beginning positions. “You are the only one wise enough to gain the full trust of the dragons and help me eliminate them from the face of the earth. That would be the ultimate betrayal.”

“You dribble the drool of an imbecile. No price would tempt me to betray the dragons.”

“Oh, but you do have a price, Merlin.” Morgan laid her hands on her chest. Her body slowly softened into a gel-like state and reshaped itself into a slightly shorter woman with wider hips, a careworn face, and graying hair. She slid her hands slowly from her chest to her hips. “Does the image of your wife please you?”

Merlin blinked rapidly, but he forced himself to stay calm. “What are your intentions?”

“My intentions?” She withdrew a gold ring from her pocket and held it out to him, her eyes flashing redder than ever. “For you to join me in my battle against Elohim and the dragons. With my power and your intimate knowledge of the enemy, no one could stop us. Just say, ‘I do,’ and we will be united in purpose forever.”

Merlin glared at the ring. “And what are the consequences when I refuse?”

She drew a dagger from her belt and plunged it into her chest. It sank into her jellied skin, fell through her body, and clattered on the floor. Waving her arms, she quickly changed back into her original shape, laughing again. “Need I say more?”

Heat scalded Merlin’s cheeks. He curled his hands into fists but kept his voice in check as he spoke slowly and clearly. “I found what I came here for. Now that I know for certain who you are, I will inform my king.” He tightened his belt with a quick tug. “That is, if I am able to leave this God-forsaken place.”

“You may already know the law of passage in the circles of seven. Since you willingly entered, you may willingly leave. You will be a valuable tool for me, so I will not prevent your departure.”

Merlin cocked his head toward the exit. “The serpents in your swamp and the beast that lurks in the shadows might have other ideas.”

“Beast?” Morgan chuckled. “Oh, that’s just Naamah, or Elaine, as you know her. She always inspects the men who stumble onto our little island. She won’t bother you, and I’ll make sure my serpentine pets are asleep during you journey home. I’m looking forward to this new adventure, and I’m confident that you will do what I’m asking. Your dear wife is too young to die.”

Keeping his eye on the chess pieces, Merlin picked up the toppled chair and set it back on its feet. “I get the impression that you desire a battle of prophetic foresight.”

She picked up the black king and twirled it in her fingers. “Yes, Merlin, but more than that, a battle between your god and mine, a chess match that allows for no stalemates.”

“Understood,” Merlin said, lifting the white king into his palm. “Till death do us part.”

With the rain diminishing to a light sprinkle, Sapphira scanned the grassy slope, her vision again crystal clear. “This must be a new portal, so I guess we should be able to use it to get back home. The scroll’s gone, so I just need to find something that will burn.”

“I am back home.” Elam spread an arm toward the misty valley. “See the glow from the fires? This is the real world, the land of the living.” He took in a deep breath and let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Even the cattle and goats smell good.”

Sapphira closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “It’s an odd smell,” she said, opening her eyes again. “It makes me feel warm inside.”

He pointed at the small building behind them on top of the hill, a thatched-roof structure with two boards nailed to the wall a vertical board about as long as Nabal was tall, and a horizontal one crossing over the vertical about two thirds of the way up. “I saw a lantern in that window. People must live there. Real people.”

“Do you want to stay?” Sapphira asked. “I mean, where would you go? Everyone you ever knew has to be long dead, and the people here won’t even speak the same language you did.”

“I know, but. .” Elam shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t want to sound mean or anything, but I don’t belong down there with the underborns. Besides, I’d be the only male, and that would be. . well. . difficult.”

“Not with you always being such a gentleman. We would all trust you.”

“Trust me or not, it would still be difficult.” He retied his belt, though it didn’t seem to need it. “I guess you wouldn’t understand.”

Sapphira folded her hands in front of her and lowered her chin. “I think I do.”

Elam lifted her chin with his fingers. “That’s actually a compliment, you know.”

She gave a slight nod and whispered, “I know.”