Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

I am a daughter of the earth, sown and rooted in the soil of the land of the dead. I am an underborn, a slave girl, a bondservant to a dark mistress of evil. For centuries I have toiled, flinching at the sound of whips, grimacing at their sting on my back, and mourning for my fellow slaves as they expired at the hands of our tormentors. One by one, they perished, and now I stand alone.

This is my story, and a story of sorrow often begins in darkness. I must lead you through the valley of the shadow of death, for only a journey through shadows will allow us to fully comprehend the beauty of heavenly light.

Alas! The darkest shadows are cast by God’s very own image, rebels who stand against the holy light implanted by their creator. For those who see the light and yet raise a fist at its source are the darkest souls indeed.

You must meet these foul creatures and become aware of their sinister plots. As they hunger to steal the souls of men, you will learn to despise their dark paths and hope for the light of day to expose their evil deeds. Take heart. Though the story begins in a flood of darkness, the light of the world will guide you toward the morning star, and I will greet you on the other side of dawn.

Angling into a plunging dive, the dragon blasted a fireball at Lilith and Naamah. The two women dropped to the ground just as the flaming sphere sizzled over their heads. Naamah swatted her hair, whipping away stinging sparks that rained down from the fireball’s tail.

With a flurry of wings and a gust of wind, the dragon swooped low. As razor sharp claws jabbed at the women, Naamah lunged to the side, and Lilith rolled through the grass. A single claw caught Lilith’s long black dress, ripping it as the dragon lifted toward the sky.

Naamah jumped to her feet and helped Lilith up. The dragon made a sharp turn in the air, and, with its jagged-toothed maw stretching open, charged back toward them.

Lilith pushed a trembling hand into the pocket of her dress. “Only one hope left,” she said, panting. Pulling out a handful of black powder, she tossed it over her head. “Give me darkness!” she cried.

The powder spread out into a cloud and surrounded the women. Naamah coughed and spat. The noxious fumes blinded her and coated her throat with an acrid film. A hand grabbed her wrist and jerked her down to her knees just as another flaming cannon ball passed over their heads.

“Crawl!” Lilith ordered.

Naamah scooted alongside Lilith as she scuffled over the dry tufts of grass. Sparks from the rain of fire ignited tiny blazes that illuminated their hands as they passed through the veil of darkness.

Naamah gagged but refused to cough. With a guardian dragon hovering somewhere overhead, giving any clue to their whereabouts could be fatal.

After several minutes, Lilith whispered, “I think I found the cave.”

Her hands, barely visible and clutching a small bundle of sticks, crawled over a bed of gravel and then to a rocky floor. When she finally stopped, Naamah sat up and gazed into the dark cloud behind her. She squeezed fractured words through her tingling throat. “Will the dragon follow?”

“Shachar is persistent,” Lilith rasped, “but she is no fool.” She coughed quietly, clearing her voice. “She will not risk the possibility that we’re a diversion for a more dangerous attack. If she doesn’t find us soon, she will go back on patrol.”

“What about her dragon sense? Won’t that draw her to us?”

“I’m not sure. A dragon’s danger alarm is still a mystery to me. I think since our only direct threat is to the ancient garden she patrols, her sense of protection will draw her there.”

The black cloud began to dissipate, revealing the mouth of a shallow cave, barely deep enough to keep out the wind. Close to the back wall, the women found a flat stone and built a fire next to it with Lilith’s collection of sticks. When the crackling flames began to rise, Lilith and Naamah sat on the stone to rest.

From her pocket, Lilith withdrew a small bundle wrapped in a black cloth. After untying a knot on one end, she produced an earthenware cup filled with herbs. “The way to Eden has yet another obstacle,” she said, tossing a pinch of the herbs into the campfire. “Our task will not be easy.”

Sparks flew toward the cave’s low ceiling, riding on thin strings of silvery green smoke. Naamah breathed deeply of the aroma-saturated air, a pungent blend of camphor and garlic. She exhaled, tasting the herbs at the back of her tongue. “What could be more difficult than getting past a dragon?”

“There are forces in our world that dwarf the power of dragons. I have foreseen much that you don’t know.”

As cool, damp air chiseled away at the fire’s rising warmth, Naamah scooted toward her sister, overlapping the fringes of their silky black dresses on the flat stone. Barefoot and shivering in the draft, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Didn’t you know it would be this cold? We should have worn our cloaks.”

“It is only temporary. The cold air is a path that leads us to the garden.” Lilith pushed her long black hair off her shoulder and huddled close, her voice low. “Naamah, you must have more faith in me. My husband’s arts have allowed me to see another world, the world of phantasmal knowledge. It is the realm of future possibilities, where I can see what might happen.”

Naamah folded her hands. “What might happen?”

The bushes rustled just outside the entrance. Lilith glanced over her shoulder, her lips pressing into two pale lines as she set the cup of herbs on the cave’s floor and drew a dagger from a sheath on her belt.

“Just the wind,” Naamah whispered. “If it were the dragon, we would have heard her wings.”

“Perhaps.” Lilith’s knuckles whitened as she wrung the dagger’s wooden hilt. “But even the wind carries spirits who might expose our plans.”

Naamah waited for the color to return to Lilith’s fingers. “So. . why are you counting on phantasmal knowledge when it can’t tell you for sure what’s going to happen?”

“Because our opponent is so predictable.” Lilith placed her long, thin hand on Naamah’s thigh. “Life is the ultimate game of chance, with millions of possible moves, so I only see what might happen. My choices and our opponent’s choices mesh in a tapestry through time, and I can see where some of the threads lead if I follow one or more of the thousands of patterns that fill my eyes. So far, Elohim has reacted to my moves exactly as I expected he would.”