Eye of the Oracle (30 page)
Elam shook his head, while Acacia nodded. “Perfect sense,” she said. “I vote for the tower portal. I don’t think anyone wants to fight that whirlpool.”
“That part makes sense,” Elam said, “but if the other portal takes us anywhere near Morgan, the magma whirlpool might start looking like a fun swim.”
Chapter 6
Merlin skulked into the enormous cave, laying his hand against the side wall as he crept forward. This had to be the place. Valcor’s directions were exceedingly precise. As the cavern dimmed, he ducked under a spider dangling from the ceiling and slowed even further. Although he was more acquainted with dragons than was any other living human, the thought of attending a council of a dozen or more in an unfamiliar cave wasn’t exactly comforting. Some would be strangers, and if he failed to adequately explain why their king was killed by humans like himself, they might be inclined to use him as a torch for their council of war.
As he entered the darker inner cavern, Merlin slowly withdrew Excalibur from its sheath. The blade began to glow, lighting his way. Although he couldn’t see any dragon faces yet, he sensed a presence in the distance. He called into the void. “I am only carrying this for light. I assume you sense no danger from me.”
A deep, gentle voice replied. “You are most welcome here, Master Merlin. There is no malintent in your heart.”
Merlin increased Excalibur’s glow, illuminating the craggy walls of the vast chamber and a knee-high, flat stone at his feet. At least thirty dragons encircled him, several of them breathing loud, spark-filled snorts. His legs suddenly unsteady, he turned and located the female dragon who had greeted him. He bowed. “Hartanna, thank you for sending for me.” He swung back, noting several dragons he didn’t recognize, and nodded briefly toward Valcor, then to Thigocia before returning to Hartanna. “Your brother’s summons seemed urgent, so I came as quickly as I could.”
“It is urgent, dear prophet. Thigocia has asked me to gather Makaidos’s followers and inform them of our present distress. I summoned you for guidance concerning the affairs of the humans.”
“A wise decision.” Merlin sighed and turned to Thigocia again. “I assume you located the bodies of your departed mate and daughter.”
“I did.” A large tear trickled down Thigocia’s cheek. “I will take care of them. Perhaps Valcor will help me.”
Valcor dipped his head solemnly. “It would be an honor, my queen.”
Merlin sat heavily on the flat stone, wiping his teary eyes with his robe’s baggy sleeve. Taking a deep breath, he lifted Excalibur and gazed around the room. “Perhaps I am not as familiar with dragon customs as I ought to be, and my question might be premature, but will you choose a new king or will the queen assume the leadership role? In this time of crisis, the dragons will need a clear chain of command.”
Thigocia lowered herself to her belly, and the other dragons settled to the ground with her. “We have had only one succession,” she said, “and Arramos designated Makaidos as king before the flood. In other situations, we females assert ourselves boldly when no male will step to the lead, but without Makaidos, I would not be able to lead this noble group. I believe both genders are necessary for such guidance.”
“Then will you choose successors, or will you find another mate?”
Thigocia turned on her eyebeams and rested them on Merlin’s robe. “After thousands of years with my beloved, I cannot bear the thought of taking another. I will choose successors, one for Makaidos and one for myself.” Her scarlet beams drifted from one scaly body to the next until they rested on Clefspeare, who promptly scooted back a few inches. “If I may be so bold,” she continued, “I believe Clefspeare and Hartanna are best suited to take our places.”
“Clefspeare!” Hartanna cried. “He is ”
“Hartanna!” Thigocia’s beams flashed.
“Yes, Mother.” Hartanna closed her eyes, and her head dipped low. “If that is your will.”
Merlin rose to his feet and approached Clefspeare. “I will finish your sentence, dragoness, with my own opinion, if I may.” He laid a hand on Clefspeare’s neck. “He is a courageous and noble friend. There is no dragon, or even human, with greater integrity.”
A gentle smile broke through on Thigocia’s face. “No one can deny your words, Master Merlin. I believe Hartanna’s concern is that Clefspeare has always been such a loner that we only know of his heroic battle exploits, not whether he could lead the dragons or be a proper mate.”
Clefspeare made a rumbling sound within his chest and bowed. “Then let my service to your departed mate, my one and only king, be your guide. If it were my choice alone, I would continue in my life of solitude, but if your will is that I should be betrothed to Hartanna, then I humbly accept, for I know that your will is equal to that of Makaidos.” He raised his head and nodded toward Hartanna. “I do, however, request the traditional, five-year betrothal period. Before we pass through our covenant veil, a time of separation is essential for me to prepare myself for this duty.”
“Duty?” Hartanna snorted. “Does not marriage involve more than duty?”
Clefspeare slid farther back. Shadows covered his face.
“Hush!” Thigocia spread a wing over Hartanna. “My dear, words of warmth will encourage a reluctant male far more quickly than will the slap of a tail.”
Merlin angled the sword’s glow toward Thigocia. “I am not familiar with this covenant veil that Clefspeare mentioned. May I ask its meaning?”
Thigocia extended her neck, bringing her head close to Merlin. Her eyes glimmered with several reddish hues, as though replaying past wonders. “It is the most holy ceremony in our culture. When two dragons come together in wedlock, they must affirm a covenantal vow. Although uncorrupted dragons cannot knowingly utter false words, it is possible that they might not know their own hearts. So, in order to guard against self-deception or ambiguous intent, the dragons must have at least two witnesses present. These witnesses collect in front of the dragons, divided into two groups that stand about two tail lengths apart. The witnesses speak our traditional vows in unison, and this creates a spiritual covenant that hangs like a veil between the groups. The dragons then pass through that veil. If either one of them does not have the vow firmly entrenched in his or her heart, he or she will not be able to pierce the veil. We call it the Great Key, for it unlocks the secrets of a dragon’s heart.”
Merlin stared at her, chills running across his skin. “Remarkable! That is a great key, indeed!”
“I only wish Roxil had not rejected our tradition,” Thigocia said, her fiery eyes fading. “Goliath would not have passed through, and her tragedy would have been avoided.”
“A tragic mistake, indeed,” Merlin said. After pausing in silence for a few seconds, he raised a finger. “Can this veil be created for vows other than a marriage covenant?”
“I have been told that it can, but I have not witnessed it. I assume any sacred confession can be made into a veil.”
“I see.” Merlin raised the sword upright and rested it on his shoulder. “Now that you have settled the matter of succession, I am ready to offer my advice.”
“Speak, then,” Thigocia said. “We are listening.”
Merlin paced in the midst of the circle of dragons. “King Arthur has summoned a council of war. With Goliath on the rampage, I fear that he will heed Devin’s call to kill every dragon who follows that renegade.”
“And what would be wrong with that?” Valcor asked. “With Goliath and his ilk out of the way, the people would no longer fear us.”
“Quiet, Valcor!” Hartanna scolded. “They are our brothers and sisters! Do you care nothing for their souls?”
Valcor swung his tail around and flicked her on the ear. “Are you still my twin sister, or are you already queen?”
Merlin chuckled. “Thigocia, have they always been like this?”
“Even in the womb,” Thigocia replied. “I do not wish twins on any dragon mother.”
“Yet, they illustrate our need for unity against our common foe.” Merlin interlaced his fingers over his chest. “After today, we can only be united in purpose, not in physical fellowship. I don’t trust Devin to keep his war against dragons within the confines of Goliath’s followers, so all of you should go into hiding. Gather gems and build the best regeneracy domes you can. Rest and gain strength until you hear from me again. Your danger sense will alert you if Devin’s war expands and approaches your cave.”
“And if the war comes?” Hartanna asked. “What then?”
“I am formulating an idea that will radically alter everything you have come to know, even those of you who have lived for thousands of years, but it will save your lives and your future. Because the plan is so drastic, I will not deploy it unless Devin’s bloodlust spreads. Even then, I will reveal the strategy only to the new king and queen, and they will prepare you for what will come to pass.”
“Master Merlin,” Thigocia said, her eyes shifting from one dragon to the next, “I want to reassure my descendants, for I sense their anxiety.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them, displaying new tears. Her voice trembled. “Each dragon here . . . has its ultimate origin . . . in my womb . . . and I care for them beyond measure. I have lived for thousands of years, and I have known humans from every generation in the history of the world. Merlin, with the possible exception of Enoch himself, there has been none with more integrity than you. I trust you without reservation, and I am convinced that you are the new oracle. The spirit of Enoch and his son Methuselah rests on you like a mantle from above.”
Merlin brushed his sleeve across his eyes again. “Your words are kind, dear dragoness. I only hope that we will not have to pursue the measures I have in mind. If the plan bears fruit, however, I hope you will continue to trust me, for it will test your faith like nothing you can possibly imagine.”
He nodded toward Thigocia, Hartanna, Valcor, and finally, Clefspeare. “When you see me again, my friends, I fear that your lives will change forever.”
Holding her lighted torch, Sapphira stood next to Acacia at the center of the tower portal. The brood of twelve girls surrounded them, wearing the typical worker tunics, worn and ratty in places, yet cleaner and whiter than usual. “Just in case this portal leads to the top of the museum,” Sapphira said, “we should go one at a time. If we all pop onto the ceiling crossbeams, there’s no way they will hold us, and we couldn’t possibly sneak past Anak if we’re all together.”
Paili pulled on Sapphira’s sleeve. “Anak is gone.”
“Gone? Why?”
Paili closed her eyes and spoke slowly. “Morgan said she found your blood on the floor, so Anak went to hell.” She exhaled loudly and opened her eyes, a hint of a smile breaking through.
Sapphira covered her mouth and gasped between her knuckles. “To hell?”
Elam extended a finger. “That’s one obstacle out of the way.” He raised a handful of straw he had gathered. “Can I go first, you know, to check it out? I don’t want any of you to get hurt if Morgan’s around.”
Acacia took Elam’s free hand in both of hers and held it close to her chest. “Where did you find this gentleman, Mara? Our teacher told us that unselfish men were rare.”
Hot prickles dotted Sapphira’s neck. “My name is Sapphira now.” She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I guess we kind of found each other . . . but, sure, Elam can go first.”
Elam laid most of the straw on the floor and tightened his fist around the small handful he kept. Sapphira touched the torch’s flame to the ends and stepped back. “Now wave it above your head in a circle.”
Elam swirled the small fire around, but the wind he created snuffed the tiny flame. Sapphira yelled, “Ignite!” and the flame shot up, quickly burning down toward Elam’s hand. “Faster!” she shouted.
Elam whirled the flame so fast, it looked like a single line of orange. The line expanded and dropped like a falling curtain until it reached the floor and covered Elam’s body with a flickering veil. Suddenly, he vanished, leaving only a few scattered ashes on the floor.
Acacia took Elam’s place. “I should go next,” she said. “The girls know me, so I should be there when they arrive.”
Sapphira chewed on her lip. “Okay,” she said, shifting on her feet again. “Get some straw.”
Acacia took a handful from the floor and copied Elam’s actions. After she disappeared, Sapphira instructed the others to follow Paili first, then the twelve new arrivals. Each one gave her name, and Sapphira tried to lock them into her mind. The girls seemed to come in matching sets of three, and within each trio, the spawns looked so much alike it would be impossible to tell them apart later. From trio to trio, they ranged from the darkest human skin she had ever seen to complexions as light as her own, and the hair of the dark girls seemed thick and crinkly, while the fair-skinned girls had light, baby-fine hair.
When the last spawn disappeared, one of three olive-skinned girls with carelessly cropped short hair, Sapphira shuffled into place. All the amazing events of the day confused her thoughts and chased the new names from her memory. She gazed down at the former dragons. Makaidos had found a mallet and was swinging it at the base of one of the remaining idols. Obviously, he wanted to get his job done in a hurry, but, although several idols already lay crumbled, this one seemed to defy his most powerful blows.
Sapphira raised her torch. In one sense, Makaidos had it easy. He knew exactly what to do. If only Elohim would give
her
straightforward commands, she would be glad to obey them, wouldn’t she?
As she swirled the torch in a wide circle, sadness again swept across her mind. She would soon be back in Morgan’s world, now a fugitive who would have to avoid the dark mistress at all costs. But how? Morgan seemed to know so much more than anyone.
The torch’s light grew into a wall of flames and descended toward her feet. As her legs began to transform, a familiar warmth caressed her thigh. She pressed her free hand against the Ovulum and smiled. Maybe someone knew more than Morgan did. Maybe soon, when she needed him most, he would prove it.
As Merlin strode toward the throne room, a guard pushed the doors open and shouted into the inner chamber. “Merlin, prophet of the Most High and advisor to His Majesty, has arrived.”
Merlin entered, shaking his head as he tromped across the newly installed red carpet. Ever since Devin had been accepted as one of the king’s knights, he insisted on all this silly pomp and heraldry. Merlin had the urge to spit something nasty on the floor. Devin should sweep up all this nonsense and take it with him to
