Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

“No progeny?” Hartanna said. “Then all is lost?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, Hartanna. All is not lost. Listen to a new prophecy.” He lifted his hands toward the sky and began to sing, his voice low and sweet.

When hybrid meets the fallen seed

The virgin seedling flies;

An orphaned waif shall call to me

When blossom meets the skies.

The child of doubt will find his rest

And meet his virgin bride;

A dragon shorn will live again

Rejecting Eden’s pride.

A slayer comes and with his host

He fights the last of thee,

But faith alone shall win the war

The test of those set free.

A king shall rise of Arthur’s mold,

The prophet’s book in hand;

He takes the sword from mountain stone

To rescue captive bands.

Merlin lowered his hands. During his song, the former dragons had settled to their seats, and now they waited in silence. After a minute or two, Hartanna gazed up at Merlin. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know, dear lady, but I think the passing of time will disclose every secret.” He sighed and kicked his nearly empty saddlebag. “Now that we have to go to Camelot on foot, there is no need to carry unnecessary baggage.” He bowed to Arthur. “Are you ready for another adventure, my king?”

Arthur bowed in return. “Lead the way. I will guard the rear.”

Merlin headed for the woods, marching with Clefspeare on one side and Valcor on the other. “Because of Gartrand’s treachery,” Merlin said, “I must take an extraordinary step in order to oversee the salvation of the dragons. Soon, I will have to depart for a very long time.”

“Where will you go?” Valcor asked.

“I only know that somehow I will guide the paths of those God has chosen to fulfill his prophecy.” When they entered the forest and began descending the slope, Merlin grabbed a sturdy stick and leaned on it with every second step. “While we are awaiting my departure, the two of you must prepare. Clefspeare, in order to help me preserve the king’s life and rule, I will ask him to make you a member of his court and family. Valcor, you must go into hiding, in case Devin figures out who Clefspeare really is. A male dragon must be preserved at all costs.”

“Into hiding?” Valcor asked. “Where?”

“Do you know where Blood Hollow is?”

Valcor pointed westward. “The glen in Bowman’s Forest.”

“Exactly. Meet me there at midnight at the next full moon, and I will show you a place you can stay. I don’t want to mention your hideaway now, because it would be best if Clefspeare doesn’t know where you are.”

Valcor nodded. “I understand.”

“I will arrive at Blood Hollow with the king,” Merlin continued. “There is something I must show you and Arthur before I go on my journey.”

“I trust that you will return soon,” Clefspeare said. “We have few friends besides you.”

Merlin handed his walking stick to Clefspeare, then draped an arm around each former dragon. “Don’t worry. I will eventually return. . in one form or another. The dragons will not be left without a friend.”

As the king paced in front of the throne, Merlin’s cheeks burned, but he kept his voice in check. “A day will come,” Merlin said, “when Morgan will pay for all her sins. I didn’t expose her identity to you at first, because I had hoped that she could be redeemed. I even told her about finding a hostiam, her only path to salvation, and how did she repay my kindness?” He paused, swallowing to control his emotions. “She poisoned my wife with her devilish fruit!”

The king stroked his chin and strolled in a slow circle around Merlin. “Has it already been three years since that tragedy? I remember very little from my days under Morgan’s spell.”

Merlin took a deep breath. “Yes, it has been a very long three years to me. I sent my son and his wife into hiding to protect them, so I am alone during the dark, quiet hours.”

“I can’t imagine the torture,” the king said, pausing to lay a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “but why do you bring it up now?”

“Because of what I must show you tonight. You see, Morgan’s food robs both life and soul. The meat and meal of devils chokes out life and empties the soul of its vitality. And now I’ve learned that my wife wanders in the so-called Dragons’ Rest, like one of the dragon spirits without a heaven for a true resting place. . or a hell to reap the bad seed they have sown.”

The king peered from under his downturned brow. “Dragons’ Rest?”

Merlin sighed. “So much to tell you and so little time.” He stood slowly, bracing his back as he straightened, and strode toward the corner of the chamber. “Come with me on a short journey. It has been one lunar month since the transformation of the dragons, and the time has come to begin the next step in my plan.”

He pushed on a panel at the back of the throne room, opening a door that blended perfectly with the surrounding wall. The two ducked under the low doorframe and stepped cautiously on a craggy stone floor. Only a tapered shaft of light from the chamber illuminated the room, revealing a narrow passage under a low ceiling. A musty odor filled the corridor, a reminder of abandonment melancholy, but not unpleasant.

After lifting an unlit torch from a metal wall bracket, Merlin closed the door, shutting out the light from the throne room. His voice echoed in the darkness. “Your Majesty. If you please.”

A glowing sword suddenly appeared, Excalibur shedding its royal glow, its hilt firmly grasped in the king’s hands. Merlin set the end of the torch against the blade and whispered, “Eshsha.” First as a tiny spark, then spreading across the torch’s fiber and fuel, a flame came to life.

The two tramped down a slippery stone slope for several hundred yards before leveling off and beginning a climb back to the surface. The ceiling and floor drew closer together until both king and prophet had to stoop to continue. By the time they finally reached a dead end, they crouched on their haunches.

Merlin handed the torch to the king. With both palms flat on the low ceiling, he pushed up on a wooden panel and placed it on the ground outside. Pressing his hands on each side of the opening, he lifted himself out of the tunnel and stretched.

The king followed, his sword still in hand. Merlin put the hatch back in place and covered it with dirt and leaves. “I tamped out the torch,” the king said. “We can use it again on our return.”

The full moon’s glow framed a dark forest, shedding light on phantasmic oaks that stretched out their branches as if to snatch up unwelcome wanderers. Merlin nodded toward a thin line of dirt that weaved a narrow path through the darkest part of the forest. He took a deep breath, his chest rattling slightly. “This way.”

As the two stole through the woods, Excalibur’s light leading the way, Merlin whispered, “Remember this path. It is the way to Blood Hollow, a place Devin likely doesn’t know. It is also a meeting place I have designated for one of the former dragons, one with whom I have recently gained a close bond.”

They waded across a knee-deep stream, then followed a deer path, descending once again through thick brush until they came out into a clearing, an elliptical, rocky space that resembled a miniature amphitheatre.

Merlin stood at the center, lifted his head, and whistled a nightingale’s call. He then stooped and signaled for Arthur to join him. “The stench of discord taints the wind,” Merlin said. “I believe Devin will soon launch a rebellion, and in order to quell the uprising, I will conduct my greatest, and my last, experiment.” He bent close to the king. “Valcor will be here momentarily. When he comes, you will learn a secret about dragons even the dragons themselves do not know.”