Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

“I heard you,” Jasmine’s sharp voice rang out. “How can I smile? New arrivals can only mean that more dragons are being murdered by humans.”

Timothy took a bite out of his apple. “Are they reporting details?”

“Only sketchy stories,” Jasmine replied, her tone calming. “They are quickly forgetting their dragon past, just as you hoped they would. They do know that Devin has committed most of the murders, and one reported that Goliath has also been killed.”

“Goliath?” Timothy nearly choked as he swallowed his mouthful. “Dead?”

As Jasmine lowered her gaze, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Yes. He should have been here by now.”

Timothy rubbed her back gently. “Perhaps he is here and has forgotten who he was.”

Jasmine stepped away from his caress. “I have matched every citizen with the name of a dragon, and neither Goliath nor Arramos is here. With the exception of one woman, all the arrivals knew who they were, though they forget everything quickly. It seems that the three of us are the only ones who still remember most of our past.”

“I am beginning to forget, too,” Brogan said. “I barely remember what it was like to fly.”

“I will never forget being a dragon.” Jasmine crossed her arms tightly. “I refuse to forget.”

Timothy pointed at her. “Remember if you must, but do not torture the others. It would be better for them to live at peace here.”

“On that issue, I do agree.” She breathed a long sigh. “In fact, I will encourage them to forget, but at least one of us has to keep the memory of our species alive.”

Timothy held up his hand, displaying his pulsing rubellite ring. “These rings are surely a sign that the Maker has not forgotten who we are. Horses and other animals have appeared out of nowhere, as did a crop ready for harvest. God knows we are here, and he will not abandon us forever.”

Jasmine rubbed her ring’s gem. “That woman I mentioned doesn’t have one. She also has white hair, so I thought she might be an underborn.”

“Many humans have white hair,” Timothy said, “especially the older ones.”

“She is older, to be sure, and she is also very intelligent, though she remembers very little of her past. I put her in charge of archiving scrolls until I had an opportunity to ask you about her.” Jasmine nodded at the path. “Here she comes now.”

An elderly woman with a sweet smile extended a scroll to Timothy. “Here is the harvest inventory, Captain Autarkeia.”

“Captain?” Timothy laughed. “Am I now a Captain?”

“My designation for you as king of the dragons and founder of this town,” Jasmine explained. “I am establishing a hierarchy using a military system. I thought it best to maintain an orderly governing body.”

“I see.” Timothy bowed his head toward the newcomer. “What is your name?”

“Sarah.” She dipped her knee. “Pleased to meet you.”

Timothy leaned over and studied her face. “We have met before, have we not?”

Sarah rearranged the stack of scrolls in her arms and smiled again. “Not that I can remember, Captain.”

“I know we have,” Timothy said, tapping his forehead, “but memory loss seems to be affecting me.”

A popping sound made Timothy pivot. A red glow, an elliptical aura, much like the one created by the Ovulum, arose from the garden in the town’s central circle. Bordered by the only two idols remaining from Shinar’s ruins, it vibrated a tune as if strummed by a skillful hand. Entranced, Timothy walked slowly toward it.

“Where are you going?” Jasmine called.

Timothy pointed. “To the red glow.”

“What red glow?”

He stopped at the edge of the garden and spread out his arms. “Right here. Right in front of me.”

Brogan ran up to his side and whispered, “Timothy, perhaps you have been working too hard. There is nothing here but tulips and daffodils.”

Timothy pointed again. “Look! I see Merlin on the other side. And there is King Arthur. I also see a third man, but I do not recognize him.”

“Father,” Jasmine said, sliding an arm around his elbow, “you need to rest. Come with me.”

Timothy pulled away and tromped right into the flowers, reaching for the aura.

“Father!” Jasmine called.

Timothy touched the crimson surface, raising a splash of sparks. The radiant energy crawled along his hand, then up his arm, and covered his skin with vibrating red embers. When the energy reached his eyes, a dazzling flare of scarlet enveloped everything in his field of vision.

Jasmine screamed. “Father! Do not leave me!” Her voice sounded distant and warped.

Timothy felt himself being drawn into the aura, swallowed whole, as if becoming part of its pulsing red field. The town disappeared in a foggy sea of scarlet, leaving only the two idols intact as they seemed to join him in the sparkling radiance. Distorted words drifted past his ears, like a woman’s desperate cry blown about by the wind.

“Father!” the voice called. “I love you!”

Merlin strode to the portal and set his hand on top. Pushing down, he squeezed the aura into the rubellite on the ground below. As it compressed, a stream of energy popped out. It spun around Merlin and Valcor three times, then shot into the sky like a frazzled lightning bolt. Two balls of energy followed and launched over the trees in a high arc.

“What were those?” Valcor asked.

Merlin laid his hand on top of his head. “I have no idea!”

“Is it a sign? Part of the prophecy?”

“I will seek wisdom on this mystery, but for now” Merlin picked up the gem “I want you to take this rubellite. Keep it safe. When I have set the plan of redemption in order, I will make sure the way to use this gem is added to the king’s chronicles.” He laid the stone in Valcor’s palm. “I will call it the Great Key, for through it the dragons will be able to leave their prison and find a true resting place.”

Valcor drew it closer to his eyes. “Master Merlin! The rubellite is no longer pulsing.”

Merlin rocked the gem with his finger. “Makaidos! His spirit has either died, or. .” He gazed at a vapor trail vanishing in the sky. “He has escaped.”

“My father? Escaped?” Valcor lifted his head upward. “What will happen to him? Where will he go?”

“I’m not sure. He died before the transformation, so he has no body in which to reside. Unless he finds a way to reanimate his dragon carcass, he will be a wandering spirit.”

Valcor held the gem in his fingertips. “Shall I tell Clefspeare and Hartanna about this? After all, Makaidos was Hartanna’s father and Clefspeare’s grandfather.”

“Yes,” Merlin said, “but guard what you say. Tell Hartanna that the rubellite once belonged to her father, that it reflects the vitality of a dragon’s mortal essence, but keep the rest to yourself. Since we don’t know what really happened to Makaidos, speculation about his fate would be foolhardy.”

Valcor peered into the gem. “What about the village we saw inside? And what about the other dragons? Should I tell Hartanna about that?”

Merlin shook his head. “Until the dragon messiah comes to set the dragons free, the gateway to Dragons’ Rest must remain a secret from everyone else.”

“To keep the dragons safe from Morgan?”

“Morgan cannot harm those already dead. What’s important is that the dragon messiah finds his way to Dragons’ Rest, and, according to the word God gave me in a dream, he must do so only through a special messenger whom God will prepare at the proper time.”

Valcor closed his hand around the rubellite and gazed at the moon, now hazy behind a veil of thin clouds. “May God bring that messenger soon!”