Eye of the Oracle

by Bryan Davis

  “What if Morgan is right? What will you do if the king betrays you and sides with Merlin?”

  “Then we will proceed with Morgan’s rebellion plan. I don’t like the idea of the unusual marriage arrangement she proposed, but having that kind of power would be worth putting up with her.” After sweeping more rocks to the side, Devin stopped suddenly and stooped close to a flat rock near the wall. “Palin, what is this?”

  “Where, my liege?”

  “This glowing pebble.” Devin picked up the stone by its attached string. As the surrounding light grew dim, he drew the stone closer to his face.

  “Our torches are going out,” Palin said.

  “No. The flame lives; only the light dies. It is drawn to this gem.”

  Devin closed his hand over the stone. Instantly, the light from the flames scattered throughout the cave. “I have heard legends about such a gem, but why would it be here, in a dragon’s lair?”

  “What have you heard about it?”

  “An ancestor of mine told a story of Nimrod, the king of Shinar, and how he used a light-absorbing gem as a weapon against dragons.”

  “A weapon? How?”

  Devin slipped the gem into his vest. “I’m not sure, but I intend to find out.”

  Clefspeare circled over Bald Top, casting a shadow over a pod of dragons milling about on the summit. As the dragon flew lower, Merlin gestured toward the rear. “Your Majesty, prepare to slide down. Remember, find the clearing and watch the proceedings from the woods. The dragons will not sense you because you pose no danger, but until all is complete, it is best if you stay in hiding.”

  The king nodded. “Agreed.”

  “He’s slowing down over a clear spot. Go!”

  Arthur slid across the scaly hindquarters, then dropped and rolled in the soft turf. Clefspeare rose over the tree-filled mountain and hurried toward the summit’s clearing.

  Before descending, Merlin caught a glimpse of Arthur hiding behind a tree a few yards inside the edge of the woods, far enough away to stay out of sight, yet close enough to see the dragons and hear their booming voices.

  As Clefspeare settled to the ground, he beat his wings rapidly and lowered his head. Still carrying his bag, Merlin descended the ridges and jumped to the grass. After letting the bag drop, he counted the dragons in attendance, three males, reddish and standing tall, and nine females, smaller and tawny in color.

  One of the females stepped forward. “Master Merlin, all are present, as you requested.”

  Merlin bowed. “Thank you, Hartanna. You have been a great help. And are all in agreement?”

  “Yes. We have discussed the final preparations, and we are ready.” Hartanna shifted her body toward Clefspeare. “Has Master Merlin prepared you?”

  Clefspeare bowed his head. “Yes, Hartanna. Diving into the human condition is an adventure that none of us covets, but we dragons do what we must do.”

  “Well said.” Hartanna touched Merlin’s shoulder with the tip of her wing. “We await your instructions.”

  From his deep pocket, Merlin pulled out a skin flask and placed it in the middle of the semicircle of dragons. Then, standing in front of the solemn assembly, he called out, “The flask contains only wine, but those who drink it in faith will receive what God has promised. All who have their hearts prepared will be transformed, and when the fullness of the time has come, you will be restored to your desired state. The slayers will eventually die out. Once they believe that dragons have become extinct, they will no longer train to battle your kind, and the poisoned hunger for dragon killing will cease to exist. When you return, there will be no fallen dragons to make the people fear you again.”

  Hartanna stepped forward. “Then let us proceed. I volunteer to go first.”

  “No one will change until all have tasted,” Merlin warned. “Otherwise, faith would be made sight before its time.”

  Merlin picked up the wineskin and lifted it toward the sky. “Heavenly Father, King of the Universe, bless this wine. Fill it now with the seed of Adam so that these will bear his likeness, both in his glory as the image of God and in his shame as reflections of a fallen race. They understand that the benefit of your presence will depart from them as they share in the human curse. They also understand that should they fall after the likeness of Adam’s sin, they must find their salvation through the Light of the World.”

  Extending the flask in front, Merlin walked toward the line of dragons. Hartanna lowered her head and opened her great mouth. Merlin raised the opening of the skin over her teeth and tipped it forward. At first it came out too quickly, spilling a bit over her jaws, but he pulled back before he lost too much.

  Hartanna lifted her head and swallowed with a loud gulp. “Be brave, my friends. The wine goes down without harm.”

  One by one, Merlin gave the drink to the dragons. A few seemed tentative, but they took it without much hesitation. When he came to Clefspeare, the last in line, the great red dragon bowed his head. “I look forward to shaking your hand.”

  Merlin bowed in return. “And I, yours.”

  Clefspeare followed the ritual, and after he swallowed, the twelve waited in silence. For the first torturous minute, nothing happened. Merlin took a seat on the ground, while the dragons gathered in a circle.

  Several more minutes passed. A few dragons lowered their hefty bodies to the cool grass. Hartanna and Thigocia whispered to one another while Valcor and Legossi tested their wings. Merlin crossed his legs and bowed his head in prayer.

  After what seemed to be an hour, one of the dragons broke the silence. “He’s a fraud!”

  Merlin looked up. A male dragon backed away from the rest of the council, his head low.

  Hartanna beat her wings against the ground. “What did you say?”

  “He’s a fraud! Merlin has made fools of us all. There was a second man riding on Clefspeare’s back. I saw him. He must be a slayer, and he will bring the others while we wait for this traitor’s potion to fail.”

  Hartanna roared. “Silence, Gartrand! Will you destroy the faith of the others with your own infidelity?”

  “This is not faith,” Gartrand said, thumping his tail. “I, too, want to survive. Who ever wants to die? But we have stepped into the humans’ trap. Let us kill this evil sorcerer and fly away to safety.”

  Gartrand lunged toward Merlin. In a flash of wings and glistening red scales, Clefspeare blocked Gartrand’s path, but when he opened his mouth to attack, only hot air spewed forth. He turned, as if trying to slash his foe with his tail, but when he swung, the tail shriveled and vanished.

  Edging backwards, Gartrand trembled. “This must be one of Merlin’s tricks. The rest of us are still in dragon form.”

  Clefspeare’s scales melted into smooth skin, his claws reshaped into fingers and nails, and his giant mouth shrank into the jaw and lips of a human male. Gartrand let out a piercing scream and took to the skies, still completely in dragon form.

  Clefspeare pressed his hands together and interlocked his fingers. Hartanna shuffled toward him, and as she moved, her spiny top transformed into long, silky blonde tresses and her scales smoothed into milky white skin. Soon, the other dragons began the metamorphosis, and within minutes, all eleven had the appearance of fully mature adults, perhaps in their early to late thirties. When the process was complete, they gathered together in excited laughter.

  Merlin rose to his feet and carried his leather bag to the huddle. He pulled out bundles of clothing dresses, shirts, and breeches and tossed them to the ground. “Get dressed,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You are naked, and the king is watching.”

  “Oh! Yes, of course!” Hartanna picked up one of the dresses and smiled. “Come everyone! Here is another new experience. Clothes!”

  The former dragons picked through the garments, offering pieces to one another and helping each other figure out how the fasteners worked. Soon, all we
re dressed in the garb of middle-income commoners.

  While Thigocia buttoned the back of Hartanna’s dress, she peered at Merlin over her daughter’s shoulder. “Master Merlin, what of Gartrand? Surely this was unexpected.”

  Merlin dropped his bag to the grass. “Unexpected, indeed, and unfortunate.”

  Thigocia fastened the last button. “How so?”

  “He may be the only dragon left in the world. He will feel abandoned, frightened. He will not take the usual care, so Sir Devin will have no trouble finding him. Gartrand is extremely vulnerable, and since he knows what has happened, all of you are vulnerable as well.”

  “What shall we do?” Hartanna asked.

  “While I was in prayer, the Lord spoke to me. His purpose remains unchanged, but with the departure of the traitor, God will accomplish what he has set out to do in another way.”

  “Traitor?” Clefspeare tied a leather belt around his waist. “Will Gartrand betray us?”

  “Yes, but only at the point of a sword. Devin will extract the information he needs by force.”

  “Then the slayers will pursue us always,” Hartanna concluded.

  “I fear you are correct. They will continue to sharpen their swords, and the scent of your blood will never leave their nostrils.”

  Arthur walked out of the woods and approached the gathering. “Hail, great council,” he said, bowing. “I salute you who were once clothed in the majesty of your race. As long as I live, I will protect you. I cannot take the slayer’s thirst for your blood out of his soul, but I can deprive him of the means to pursue his quest.”

  Hartanna curtsied, clumsily at first, but with her second effort, as gracefully as any princess. “I trust that you will prove your promises, my king.” She touched Merlin’s elbow. “Master Merlin, if the slayers are unable to destroy us in their lifetimes, they will surely teach their bloodlust to their descendants. How, then, will we ever become dragons again?”

  Merlin took her hand. “Hartanna, it’s possible that some of you will never be dragons again.”

  A rumble of murmurs sounded from the gathering. Hartanna waited for the noise to subside, then clasped Merlin’s hand firmly in both of hers and gazed into his eyes. “How will our race survive? How long shall we live? Shall we procreate? And if we do, what kind of creature shall we beget?”

  Merlin signaled for all the dragons to come close, and when they were within a whisper’s distance, he looked around at the circle of concerned eyes. “You will not be able to procreate with each other,” he said softly, “but you will live long on the earth. I know of no dragon who has ever died of natural causes, but death is part of Adam’s curse. I cannot say how you will be affected.”

  “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.”

  Chapter 10

  Dragons’ Rest

  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 c
hamber 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.