Eye of the Oracle

by Bryan Davis

  She kicked a pile of crushed rocks, scattering dust around her ankles. The high portico that had once covered the brick-making area had collapsed. Broken beams and marble lay in heaps on the dirt floor. The kilns were now punched through on every side, as though an army of invaders had marched in and ruined everything in sight. Red and gray bricks lay strewn and broken, some pieces thrown as far away as the opposite side of the dirt street. With her courage still flowing, she called out, “Is anyone here?”

  A gentle breeze brushed her ears, but nothing else. “Is anyone here?” she called again.

  This time, a sharp voice replied. “Who are you?”

  Sapphira took a step back. Should she answer? What if this person knew Morgan? Could she risk letting him know her name? She cleared her throat and spoke in her sweetest tone. “I am a lost traveler from another land. Is there anyone here who can help me find my way?”

  A head bobbed up from behind one of the kilns, a young male with ragged brown hair. When he caught sight of her, his eyes widened. “Are you a girl?”

  Sapphira glanced down at her body and straightened her frumpy dress. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  The boy stepped out from behind the kiln. “I guess so. I haven’t seen very many. Only grown women, really. No one as young as you.”

  Sapphira untied her coif and pulled it off, letting her hair tumble down. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she walked closer. The boy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes seemed glazed.

  She looked down at her dress again. “Is something wrong?”

  He swallowed and retied a leather sash at the front of his dirty gray tunic. “No. It’s just that . . . Do all girls have white hair and shining blue eyes like yours?”

  She swept a handful of hair over the front of her shoulder. “No. Only one other that I know of, but she’s dead.” Taking three more steps, she closed the gap between them and stood within arm’s reach. “Your voice is familiar . . .”

  “So is yours.”

  She whispered, “Elam?”

  A broad smile crossed the boy’s face. “Mara?”

  Sapphira laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes! I’m Mara!” She hoped Elam would return the embrace, but his body stiffened, feeling cold and hard. She laid her hands on his shoulders and pulled back. “I mean, I’m not Mara anymore. My name’s Sapphira now, but I’m the girl from the below lands.”

  He pulled back farther, letting Sapphira’s hands slip away. “That’s impossible,” he said, squinting at her. “How could you still be alive after all these years?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  He picked up half a brick, his grip tight and his bicep flexed. “How do I know you’re not just another one of Morgan’s tricks to get me to do what she wants? You might be an imposter.”

  “If you remember Morgan,” she said, wiggling her fingers in front of him, “I’m sure you’ll remember licking stew off of these.”

  “I remember.” His ears turned red, and he dropped the brick. “No one else would know about that.”

  “Speaking of stew . . .” She swiveled her head from side to side. “Where do you find food in this place?”

  “I never looked for food. I haven’t eaten anything for years.”

  “Years?” she repeated. “How is that possible?”

  Elam shrugged his shoulders. “I never get hungry.”

  “Never? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Elam scraped his sandal along the ground. “Remember that tree Morgan has?”

  “Uh-huh. Is that where you got that blossom you gave me?”

  “Yes. I ate some of the fruit, the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and I haven’t been hungry since.”

  Sapphira sighed. “The blossom never faded. I’ve been hiding it under Paili’s bed for centuries.”

  “Paili’s alive, too? I’m glad to hear that. She’s a real nice girl from what I could tell.”

  “She is, and keeping her out of Morgan’s clutches is worth all the trouble.” She turned slowly in a circle. “So, what is this place?”

  “It might not be the truth, but Morgan explained everything to me.” He spread out his arms. “This whole place is the sixth circle of Sheol Hades, I guess they call it now. There used to be lots of people here, dead souls who waited for the Messiah to come and take them to heaven.”

  Sapphira kicked a broken brick, scattering more dust across the empty path. “So I guess this messiah came, then.”

  “Looks that way. My grandfather told me he was coming someday. Whoever he is, Morgan hates him with a passion. She says the Messiah was vindictive and left behind a lot of souls, but they’re in other circles.”

  Elam suddenly covered his ears with his hands and grimaced.

  “What’s wrong?” Sapphira asked.

  He turned and doubled over. “Just stay away for a minute.”

  Sapphira edged toward him, reaching out her hand, but she stopped and pulled back. “Can I do anything to help?”

  Breathing heavily, Elam groaned. “Just shut up and leave me alone!”

  Sapphira tightened her fingers around her torch, then, as tears formed in her eyes, her fingers loosened again. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll go.”

  Elam spun around and held up his hand. “No! I didn’t mean you!” His eyes darkened and rolled wildly.

  Sapphira waved her torch in a wide arc. “There’s no one else here!”

  Elam covered his ears again. “I hear a voice, a singing voice. It’s beautiful, but the words . . .” He clutched his vest and wrenched it in his fist. “The words stab my heart and make it bleed. I can’t stand it!”

  Sapphira laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. “What does it say?”

  Elam pulled away and staggered into the street. He stooped, resting on his haunches with his arms draped over his knees, breathless. “Never . . . never mind. It’s gone now.” He flopped down on his backside and gave her a weak smile. A glimmer slowly returned to his eyes.

  Sapphira sat down next to him, her own breaths pumping in time with his. “If you tell me the words, maybe I can help you figure out how to battle it.”

  He shook his head and averted his eyes. “I’d really rather not.”

  Sapphira shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself.” But she didn’t really mean it. Whatever that song was, it must have been pure poison, and it didn’t seem right to let her friend battle it alone.

  Elam nodded toward the spot where Sapphira had landed. “Morgan sometimes shows up over there, just like you did, but she glides down in the form of a raven. I guess she likes checking up on her prisoner once in a while. Not that she needs to, since there’s no way to escape. No matter how far you walk or which direction you go, you always end up back here.” He flicked his head toward the sky. “Now if you can teach me how to fly like you did, maybe I can get out of here after all.”

  “I’m not sure how I did that,” Sapphira said, tapping her torch on the street, “but I have another idea that might work.”

  Elam leaped to his feet. “I just saw someone. A man.” He grabbed Sapphira’s elbow and pulled her up, keeping his body in front of her.

  Sapphira laid her hands on Elam’s shoulders and peeked around his head. “I see him, and a woman, too. They’re coming this way.”

  As the pair walked slowly along the path toward the brick kilns, Elam’s voice lowered to a whisper. “They’re walking hand in hand. That’s a good sign.”

  “Good enough for me.” With her torch on her shoulder, Sapphira strode right up to the pair. “Do you two live here?” she asked.

  The couple, a middle-aged man and a woman in her thirties, kept walking. Sapphira had to jump out of the way to keep from being bowled over. She ran in front of them again, walking backwards as she spoke. “I was just wondering if you knew anything about this place. Is there a way out or any food anywhere?”

  The pair ignored her. They both looked around wide-eyed, as
if they were lost or dumbstruck.

  Sapphira jumped out of the way again and followed them, scratching her head. Elam joined her. “Maybe they speak another language,” he offered.

  “I could try another language, but they act like I’m not even here, like they can’t see me at all.” She sidled up to the man and tapped him on the shoulder, raising her voice. “Hello! Do you understand what I’m saying?” No response. Not even a glance. Sapphira pulled on his elbow. Again, no response. Finally, she leaped in front of him and held up both hands, but he bumped into her, knocking her flat on her back, and stepped right on her stomach. He paused for a moment, said something inaudible to the woman, then kept going.

  Elam jumped to her side and helped her sit upright. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Sapphira laid a hand on her stomach. “I don’t get it. He didn’t weigh much at all.”

  Elam pulled her to her feet. “Think they’re ghosts?”

  “I doubt it. I felt his elbow when I pulled on it, and he knocked me over.” She picked up her torch and stared at the strolling pair. With all the crazy pits and portals in this place, maybe they were in another dimension. She pressed her lips together and hummed, “I wonder . . .”

  “Wonder what?”

  Twirling the torch in her palm, she watched the couple round a bend and disappear from sight. “I wonder if there’s another way to communicate with them, maybe in a different place.”

  “A different place? But they’re right here.”

  She looped her arm around his elbow. “Come on. I’ll show you.” With Elam hustling to keep up, she ran back to the rise where the tower had stood and marched straight toward the center. As she looked out over the city with her enhanced vision, she could see the couple back at the kilns, now with more detail than before. Worry lines etched the woman’s brow and cheeks, making her look older somehow, much older. The man pointed at various objects, as though he were explaining them to the woman. His face seemed friendly and wise, but his cheeks were also etched with a criss-crossing pattern that looked more like scales than skin.

  As she stood in the midst of the portal, the image of the fiery chasm flashed in her mind, this time with Paili’s body falling into the magma river.

  She clenched her teeth and yanked Elam close to her side. “No!” she shouted. “Not Paili!”

  “Where?” Elam swiveled his head. “What’s wrong with Paili?”

  Sapphira gripped his shoulders. “She’s in trouble! I’ve been gone too long, and Morgan’s getting rid of her.”

  “How can you possibly know what Morgan’s doing?”

  “Never mind!” She raised her torch. “Flames! Now!” Instantly, a crackling flame burst forth at its tip.

  Elam jumped back. “How did you do that?”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him close again. “No time to explain. Just brace yourself.” She draped her arm around his shoulders and gripped him tightly. “Stay close, or you’ll be in big trouble.”

  Moving her torch hand in a smooth orbit, Sapphira drew a blazing circle in the air. “I don’t know where this portal will take us,” she said, her body trembling, “but I have to try to get home.” As she widened the circle, the fire began to slide down around them, creating a cocoon of flames that swirled around their heads and hissed in their ears. The heat massaged her skin, warm enough to break a sweat.

  Beads of perspiration appeared on Elam’s face, reflecting the torch’s flickering orange flame. A gaping smile broke through as he whispered, “Amazing!”

  “Okay,” she said, “don’t let it scare you, but this is where it really gets weird.”

  Suddenly, the flaming wall collapsed inward around their feet, but instead of incinerating them, the fire began transforming their bodies into particles of light, inching its way up their legs and then their torsos. The process created a loud buzzing that drowned out the hissing flames.

  “When it gets to our heads,” Sapphira called, “you can keep your eyes open. It won’t hurt.”

  As the flames crawled over their faces, Elam shouted, “I love it!” Seconds later, the entire cocoon exploded into millions of pieces and scattered into nothingness. As the sparks died away, new heat stung her back, as though hundreds of tiny needles pricked her skin.

  Elam spoke, his voice now quiet and steady. “Any idea where we are?”

  Standing in a yellow column of light, Sapphira surveyed her surroundings. A cliff of granite stood in front of her, too sheer to climb. It rose to more than a hundred feet overhead and stretched out in a wide ledge at the top that overlooked the chasm below. The portal’s swirling exit column, so pale it was barely visible, seemed to dissipate as it reached toward the ceiling high above.

  As she turned to face the source of heat, a bright glow blinded her eyes. The dazzling river of magma flowed a mere dozen paces away. She backed up against the cliff and clutched her chest. “We’re at the bottom of the chasm!”

  Elam stepped closer to the river, raising his hands to block the heat, but as he approached the edge, he lowered them again. “It’s not really that hot.” He inched his finger toward the surface. “In fact, I think it’s ”

  “Aaaaiiieee!”

  The cry echoed throughout the chasm. A small, girlish body fell from the ledge, her ratty dress flapping around her legs as she dropped. Sapphira tried to scream, “Paili!” but the word barely squeaked through her cramping throat.

  Paili’s body splashed into the magma river and disappeared from sight in the slow-moving stream. At the top of the cliff, Morgan brushed her hands together, and she and Mardon walked away from the ledge.

  Makaidos blinked at the dim light. “What a bad dream!” he said out loud. He tried to turn on his eyebeams, but they didn’t seem to work. “Hmmm. Apparently I need more time in the sun.” He yawned and smacked his lips. “Or maybe in a regeneracy dome.”

  As his mind cleared, he stretched his wings, but they felt strange. His foreleg touched something at his side, most likely his mate, but the sensation was different, softer somehow, more tactile. Turning his head slowly, he brought the form next to him into view.

  He gasped. A human! A female human! He jerked his wing away and rolled to his haunches, but they weren’t haunches, they were feet and legs! Human ones! And his wing was a human arm, clothed in a soft sleeve.

  He patted his body all over, feeling his human chest, waist, and legs. What was going on? Had he awakened from a bad dream only to fall into a nightmare? Using his newly found finger and thumb, he pinched the soft flesh on his cheek. Pain. Real pain. Surely he was wide awake, but how could he possibly be human?

  Keeping his hand in front of his face, he examined his new fingers. A gold ring with a mounted red jewel was fastened around his index finger. As the gem pulsed between two shades of red, he stared at it in wonder. “My rubellite is mounted in a ring, and it blinks!”

  Gazing all around, he studied the strange landscape, a ruined city with broken monuments and fountains and debris scattered everywhere.

  Suddenly a stream of memories flooded his mind Goliath’s mocking voice, Devin’s flashing sword, Roxil’s cry as she slowly passed away at his side.

  Makaidos gulped. “Roxil!” He jumped to the woman and shook her body. “Roxil!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “Wake up!”

  Roxil groaned. “It is too early to rise, Father, even for a warrior.”

  He shook her again. “Roxil! You must wake up. This is an emergency!”

  Roxil blinked and gazed at Makaidos, then jerked away and shouted, “Who are you, human? Speak now, or I will torch you where you stand!”

  “Roxil! Look at yourself! Look at your hands and arms!”

  “Hands and arms?” Roxil lifted her hand toward her face. “What!?” she screamed. “What happened to me?”

  “I have no idea. I am confused, too.” Makaidos lowered himself to his knees and gazed into her eyes. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

&n
bsp; Her eyes locked onto his and widened as she whispered, “Father?”

  He took his daughter’s hands and pulled her to her feet. His thumb rubbed over a rubellite ring that matched his own. “Somehow we were transformed into humans.” He released her and patted his body again. “We have human chests, human arms, human legs. It’s amazing!”

  Her body wavered back and forth, and Makaidos steadied her. “Amazing was not the first word that came to my mind.”

  “Do you remember what happened in the cave?” he asked.

  She squinted at him, and, as her eyes widened again, they flashed. “Swords,” she said softly, “and humans thrusting them into us.”

  “Yes! I recognized Sir Devin. He and someone else wielded swords, and I think . . .” He grasped her hand more tightly. “I think they killed us.”

  “Killed us? But we are alive.” She pulled her hand away and wiggled her fingers. “We are as ugly as sin itself, but we are alive.”

  Makaidos stooped and picked up a broken brick. “It seems that we have been transported to a new environment, a shattered world of some kind.” He rose and cast the brick into an empty fountain. “I expected to find a better place to rest when I died.”

  Roxil scanned the toppled buildings and debris-strewn roads. “This city seems familiar to me.”

  “It seems familiar to me, as well.” Makaidos brushed dirt from his hand and extended the other toward Roxil. “Shall we look around?”

  “Do I have any choice?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.

  He smiled and pulled gently. “No, you do not.”

  As the sky brightened, they strolled along the road. Makaidos pointed at a rise in the ground in front of them. “This place in particular seems oddly familiar.” He waved his finger to one side of the rise. “If I reconstruct that broken fountain in my mind and raise those two toppled idols, it starts to look like ”

  Roxil pulled away and ran to the slope. “Shinar!” She beat her arms against her sides. “Ohhh!” she groaned. “If only I could fly! I could see everything so much better!”