Eye of the Oracle

by Bryan Davis

  Paili bounced on her seat in the center of a pile of straw. “More!” she chirped.

  Yara, sitting next to her, wrapped her arms around Paili’s neck and pulled her into a strong hug. “You need to sleep, too.”

  Sapphira sighed. “We all do. Elam’s so busy, just watching him makes me tired.”

  “It was so strange,” Yara said. “He looked right at us when he said good night to Enoch.”

  “I saw that. It’s almost like we’ve been looking through Enoch’s eyes ever since Elam left.”

  Paili rubbed her stomach. “Can we eat before bed? I’m hungry.”

  Sapphira laid her hand over her own stomach. “Did Acacia bring more food?”

  “A couple of hours ago,” Acacia called, waving from the museum.

  Sapphira walked toward her sister and peered through the doorway. “Looking for something new to read?”

  Acacia held open a scroll. “I’m studying the map again. When I was sneaking back with the food, I overheard Mardon talking about the digging project.”

  “Any idea if the giants are getting close to the surface?”

  “That’s why I’m checking the map.” She pointed at a drawing of the uppermost floor. “I think they started here, and the legend says that point is about two thousand feet below the surface.” She rolled up the map. “But I have no idea how long it will take. If they hit bedrock between here and there, it could take a thousand years.”

  Awven brought each of the twins a jar. Acacia opened hers, dipped her fingers in, and pulled out a gob of black gunk. “But as long as the worm farms hold out, we’ll have their yummy guts to eat for years to come.” She pushed the gob into her mouth, then grimaced as she swallowed. “Not a good batch. Must have had a grub worm in the mix.”

  As the two girls walked back toward the portal, Sapphira opened her own jar. “Everything’s going to change when they finally break through,” she said, “but if they don’t do it pretty soon, and if we don’t figure out how to open a portal” she pinched a clump of worm guts and winced at it “I might just choose to starve.”

  “Elam never eats,” Paili said, wormy gunk spilling down her chin.

  Sapphira stared at her. “What did you say?”

  “Elam never eats,” Paili repeated. “Haven’t you noticed?”

  Sapphira set her jar down, not bothering to recap it. “I already knew. He ate the fruit from the other tree.” She ran back to the museum, rushed past the statues, and knelt where Morgan’s tree once grew. It had taken days to uproot the awful thing and burn it, and the smoke had filled their chamber with a putrid odor for weeks, but it was worth it. As soon as Paili stopped handling the fruit, her speech improved dramatically.

  “Paili,” she shouted. “Do you know where I keep my blossom?”

  Paili appeared at the museum’s doorway. “Under my old bed?”

  “No.” Sapphira pointed at a bookshelf near the door. “I moved it to that shelf I cleared out. Please bring it to me.”

  Finding the blossom, Paili cradled it in her palms, and carried it to the bed of soil.

  Sapphira wrapped her hands around the petals and folded them up into a ball. She gouged the soil with her fist and laid the blossom in the hole. “We’ll make a growth chamber right here. There ought to be enough magnetite bricks lying around.” Scooping dirt from around the blossom, she covered it up under a mound.

  Acacia strolled into the museum, her arms crossed over her chest. “How do you know it will germinate? It can’t have seeds yet, can it?”

  Sapphira looked up at her. “Do you remember hearing Merlin’s prophecy when the dragons transformed?”

  “Remember!?” Acacia laughed. “You woke me up, screaming, ‘Look at the portal! Look at the portal!’ I was kind of groggy, but I remember watching.”

  Sapphira got up and grabbed a scrap of parchment from a nearby shelf. “I wrote down the prophecy.” Pressing her finger on the parchment, she read the poem.

  When hybrid meets the fallen seed

  The virgin seedling flies;

  An orphaned waif shall call to me

  When blossom meets the skies.

  Sapphira raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  “Well,” Acacia said, “we’re all hybrids, virgins, and orphaned waifs.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s worth a try. Maybe that blossom will somehow sprout and touch the sky.”

  Sapphira smiled. “Good rhyme, Acacia.”

  Acacia smiled back at her and slid a scroll from one of the lower shelves. “Speaking of poetry,” she said, her mouth stretching into a yawn. “I think I’ll read some. It’s time for us all to get to bed.”

  “Great,” Sapphira said. “I could use a good bedtime story.”

  “Then you’ll join us?” Acacia asked.

  Sapphira nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Acacia gave her a worried-mother look. “You okay?” she asked.

  Tightening her lips, Sapphira nodded again. She leaned against the museum doorway as her twin oracle walked back to the girls, who had gathered in a circle around a small pile of scrolls near the portal. Although the museum had once housed thousands of documents, the modest heap represented a precious share of their diminishing fuel supply.

  Acacia pointed at the pile and ignited it, then jumped back in mock alarm. The other girls laughed, and as Acacia squeezed in between Paili and Awven, she glanced back at Sapphira, smiling in a sad sort of way before unwinding the scroll and settling down to read.

  Sapphira strolled back to the planter and lowered herself to her knees in front of the mound she had piled over the blossom. She gazed up into the dark reaches of the cavernous library. The portal at the museum’s upper crossbeams no longer worked. The orange portal where the girls gathered probably still led to the nest of vipers in the swamp. The whirlpool portal at the bottom of the chasm was now unapproachable. The magma had become so hot, it scalded their faces even as they stood on the ledge, warning them that a plunge into its current now meant certain death. And the portal down in the mining trench where the abyss used to be had fizzled soon after it was created.

  Still, any untested doorway could lead somewhere worse than their present location. She couldn’t go to the dimension of dead dragons and risk destroying their new home. Dwelling in the land of the living was out of the question; the people would think she was a freak and put her on display. And showing up at Morgan’s castle would be the worst idea of all.

  Sapphira sighed. She and Acacia would just have to be content watching the upper lands from afar, cut off from everything that really mattered from Elam and his dangerous task, from the dragons and their new adventure, and, worst of all, from Elohim and his loving embrace. They would have to consider, however, what to do with the other girls. Since they looked like normal humans, they could find homes up above, and they would be a lot more comfortable there, having access to beds and blankets and something better to eat than worm guts. Of course, getting them there safely would be the hard part. Maybe she could somehow reopen the trench portal. Since it likely led to the hill near the church of Michael, she could find homes for the girls and then go back to the lower realms.

  She leaned over and smoothed out the dirt on top of the planter’s hopeful womb. She felt as though she had entombed herself, Sapphira Adi buried alive in a God-forsaken hole. The girl Elohim had used and thrown away had died, and Mara the slave girl had come back to life, a girl trapped in a dismal prison with no rescuers in sight.

  She rocked back and forth on her knees, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Maybe, just maybe, that blossom would root and grow. Who could tell? If dragons could become humans, maybe a freak of nature could become something beautiful, something that could be loved, not just used for a while and cast back into the darkness, but loved and treasured forever.

  Sapphira lifted her head and gazed at Lazarus’s cross, nailed to the wall next to the shelf where she kept Enoch’s scroll. The dark-grained wood,
burnished by the flames that spun her back to the lower realms, sparkled from afar, reflecting a lantern hanging near the museum door. The dazzling gloss seemed to flicker in rhythmic flashes, reminding her of the Ovulum’s pulsing cadence, yet radiating white light rather than red.

  Bowing her head again, she raised her clasped hands under her chin. “Elohim,” she whispered. “I hope you’ll give me another chance. I . . . I guess there’s still something I don’t understand, or maybe I did something wrong, and that’s why I have to stay down here . . . but that’s okay. I know Acacia and the other girls need me right now.”

  She tucked her lips in, trying not to cry. “I didn’t really mean what I said about wanting you to leave me alone. I was tired and scared, and losing Elam and the Ovulum made me feel awful. It was like I died inside, twice in the same day.” She looked up at the cross and blinked at its dancing glitters. As the sparkles rode the grain from top to bottom and side to side, it seemed to laugh with joy. She fixed her gaze on the dazzling display and sighed deeply. “I hope you’ll come back someday and show me how to dance with you again.”

  Book 3: Refiner’s Fire

  Chapter 1

  New Homes

  But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth? for he is like a refiner’s fire, and like fullers’ soap: And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver: and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the LORD an offering in righteousness. (Malachi 3:2-3)

  When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. (Isaiah 43:2)

  Circa AD 1924

  Crouching low, Sapphira peeked into the open trapdoor. With her flaming cross in one hand and a coiled rope draped over her thighs, she shook her head and whispered to Acacia behind her, “I can’t see a thing.” She grimaced at her own voice. The secret tunnel above the spawns’ mobility room always seemed to be a sanctuary of quiet, but now even a shushed tone sounded like a rushing torrent.

  “I found a thick stalagmite,” Acacia whispered back.

  Sapphira tossed one end of the rope to her. “Make sure it doesn’t rub on anything sharp. I don’t want it to snap on my way down.” As the rope tightened, she reeled out another loop.

  “It’s secure.” Acacia crawled toward her along the stony floor but bumped her head on the ceiling. “Ow!”

  “Shhh!” Sapphira warned.

  Acacia rubbed her scalp. “I don’t think anyone’s down there to hear us. It’s been quiet for months.”

  “Silence worries me.” Sapphira unwound the remaining coils into the open hatch and breathed on her cross. “Lights out for now.” When the flames died away, she pushed the cross behind her belt buckle and grasped the rope. “I’ll see you at the bottom.”

  As she slid through the cold pocket of darkness, a chorus of sounds arose from below the familiar hum of magneto bricks; a persistent tick, tick, tick from an unseen source; and the rapid thrumming of her own heart. She clenched the rope more tightly. The silence above now seemed a lot friendlier than the noises of the forbidden room.

  The long slide stung her hands. The fibers were coarser than those on the rope in the elevation shaft, but this had been the only one she could find in the land of the living. Ever since she finally opened the portal in the mining shaft and began foraging for supplies in garbage heaps, she had to make do with whatever people had thrown away or would give her out of pity. This rope wasn’t the best, but it would hold . . . she hoped.

  When her toes finally reached the rocky bottom, she breathed a sigh of relief, and, pulling out her cross, she whispered for its light. “Just a little for now.” Low flames crawled along the wood like bright orange worms. Though set on fire hundreds of times over the years, not a grain was ever consumed or even scorched.

  She raised the torch high, signaling her safe arrival. Waving it slowly back and forth, she tried to imagine what lay in the shadows beyond her light’s reach. Could the giants be sleeping somewhere? Might a sudden noise awaken them? And where was Mardon?

  Acacia finally came into view, first her bare feet, then the skirt of her tunic, soiled and wrinkled from the crawl space above. When she settled to the floor, she pulled a scroll from her belt and whispered, “Give me light,” and a gentle flame sprouted at the top.

  With their torches casting a flickering glow, Sapphira and Acacia tiptoed side by side. The rocky floor smoothed out into a flat, almost glass-like surface, and the hum of magneto bricks grew to a crescendo, like a million locusts buzzing their afternoon chants. As the shadows on the walls sharpened, the sisters slowed to a halt. Acacia’s mouth dropped open. “These growth chambers are enormous!”

  Sapphira reached her torch close to the chamber’s inhabitant and shone the light in his gruesome face. “It’s a giant. I think he’s asleep.”

  Acacia skulked alongside the wall, raising her voice as she called back. “They’re all over the place! Napping like little babies!”

  Sapphira moved her light to the next giant and grimaced. “Like big, hairy, monkey-faced babies. I doubt if even a mother could love these freaks of ” She stopped and bit her lip hard.

  “What did you say?” Acacia asked.

  Sapphira slinked to Acacia’s side and kept pace with her. “Just that they don’t remind me of any babies I’d like to snuggle.” She joined her light with her sister’s, trying to see the face on each bowed head. “Yereq must be around here somewhere.”

  “Do you think you’ll recognize him? They all look pretty much alike.”

  “They do.” Sapphira firmed her chin. “But I’ll recognize him.”

  Creeping past each chamber and peering at each hideous expression took several minutes, but Sapphira finally stopped and studied one face more carefully, a much more pleasant face. The giant’s brow arched over his closed eyes, and his firm, square jaws supported a smooth, rounded chin. His thin lips carried the delicate smile of a contented sleeper.

  Sapphira pointed at the giant with her cross. “This is Yereq. I’m sure of it.”

  Acacia propped a hand on her hip and gazed at the sleeping giant. “Okay. Now that we’ve found him, what do we do?”

  “Figure out what’s going on.” Sapphira pivoted and reached her light toward the center of the chamber. “If I know Mardon, he has a worktable around here and probably a scroll for recording what he’s been up to.”

  Sapphira ventured ahead, slower now as she passed over a rougher part of the floor. A shadow loomed in front of her, and as the cross’s glow shifted toward it, the dark form sloughed its shroud, revealing a high, square table. Sapphira laid her hand on the smooth surface. There were no glass jars with struggling embryos, only a large scroll perched at one corner.

  She swung her head around. “I found it!”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Sapphira rolled open one side of the scroll and held it in place. Since most of the revealed portion was blank, the data entry that led up to the empty space likely represented Mardon’s last work. She squinted at the smudged cacography. It had been many years since she had read Mardon’s data, and now his handwriting was worse than ever.

  Acacia joined her and held the scroll open. “You found the record?”

  “Uh-huh, but it’s a mess.” She pointed at the top of one entry. “I think he’s complaining about hitting bedrock while digging for the surface.” Sliding her finger down the parchment, she read on. “The giants don’t have enough food, and they’re getting tired and cranky, so instead of continuing the dig, he makes them carve out growth chambers for themselves.”

  Acacia pulled the scroll open a few more inches. “Hunger is a good incentive, I suppose.”

  Sapphira pointed again. “He says that right here. In fact, they don’t have room to make c
hambers for all of them, so he poisons the least productive ones and leaves them outside of the mobility room to rot.”

  Acacia nodded. “That explains the bones in front of the door.”

  “But after they finish digging the chambers” Sapphira moved her finger to the top of the next section “he invents a new kind of magneto brick, something about a timer built inside it, a counter of some kind. It’s supposed to wake them up when it counts down to zero, but there’s a way to wake them up earlier in case he figures out how to get them out of here.”

  “Well, not that I want to wake them up, but does he tell how?”

  Sapphira tapped her finger on the paper. “There are seven lines of numbers. It must be some kind of code, but I have no idea how to break it.”

  “Any clue where Mardon is now?”

  “This is the messiest part of all, but I think he found an air shaft through the bedrock that’s too small for the giants.” Sapphira slid her finger to the bottom of the entry and shrugged her shoulders. “And that’s the end.”

  “But he’s not really alive. How can he get out?”

  Sapphira raised her cross as high as she could, but the glow still wouldn’t reach the ceiling. “The land above us is still in the dimension of the dead, so if he made it out, he should be fine, but he’d probably need help to open a way big enough for the giants to escape.”

  The girls locked gazes and nodded at each other. “Morgan,” they said together.

  Sapphira rolled up the scroll and tucked it under her arm. “Let’s take this back to the museum.”

  “What about the counters he mentioned?” Acacia stooped and looked under the table. “Should we be able to see them?” she asked, rising again.

  Sapphira nodded toward the scroll. “Mardon said they were built into the bricks.”