by Bryan Davis
“Precisely. And now that Elam has indicated his willingness to fight the slayer, all of the pieces are in place.”
“When are you going to tell him our plan?”
“Tomorrow morning. But first I want to make sure you and I are of the same mind concerning the prophecy. Do you understand what it appears to be saying about you?”
Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “If you mean that line about the hybrid and the king’s son, then, I guess I do.”
“If you are the hybrid to be laid to rest, then inviting a battle with Devin could mean your death.”
“I know.” Gabriel turned away from the window. “I just want to do what I have to do and get it over with. If Devin dies, then we’ll celebrate. If I die, that’s okay, too. I’m ready to go.”
Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and nodded respectfully. “You have a heart that reflects the selflessness of your savior, but we will do whatever it takes to protect you. Although it seems clear that we must take this step to bring our conflict to some kind of resolution, Merlin’s words frighten me. His prophetic utterances have never been wrong.”
“I know what you mean.” Gabriel pressed his hand against his stomach. “It makes my dinner want to come back up and smack me in the face.”
Patrick clasped Gabriel’s shoulder. “You could go into hiding. God might use a different son of a dragon king. Your mother and father, or another dragon turned human might have another child. You don’t have to ”
“I’m not a coward!” Gabriel said, slapping his wings together. “Why should I risk someone else’s life?”
Patrick stepped back. “Of course you aren’t a coward. I was merely pointing out your options.”
Gabriel sighed and spread out his hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Devin’s the reason my parents are always on the run. I’m not missing this chance for anything.”
Patrick lifted a finger. “I have one further concern. Since you are, shall we say, somewhat of a unique species, I’m not sure where you would go if the worst should occur. That is, I am not confident your soul will go directly to heaven. You might spend some time in Dragons’ Rest.”
Gabriel steeled his jaw. “It doesn’t matter. Whether I ascend to heaven or make my bed in hell, God will be with me.”
“Yes, yes,” Patrick said, nodding, “I know the psalm. Still, you are not a normal human. Such promises are rather vague in your case.”
“Then it’s a new adventure, isn’t it? I’d rather go to war than cower in shadows all my life. My parents think Devin’s hiding in every alley he’s the bus driver; he’s the balloon man at the fair; he’s the principal at my school. The way he gets around, you’d think he was Superman. No one can be that powerful.”
Patrick’s brow creased deeply. “Don’t underestimate someone who has survived for centuries. According to the last word I have, his morbid tally stands at six dead dragons since the transformation. With Morgan giving him power, his prowess likely far exceeds your estimation.”
“Maybe, but he hasn’t found you or my family yet, so I’m not scared of him. If I have to spill my blood to protect the people I love, then I’m ready.”
Patrick laid his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders. “You are a true warrior. I shall not try to dissuade you any longer.”
“A warrior?” Gabriel turned his head to the side. “If you say so. I just hope I have the guts to back up my hot air.”
“I understand.” Patrick slid his hands away and strolled to the table. He picked up the pendant and let it dangle by its chain. As the rubellite twirled at the bottom, its facets glimmered, sending red flashes all around. He caressed the gem with his fingertip. “Why the path to salvation must be coated with blood, I’ll never understand, but of this I’m sure it is the sacrifice of love that will draw the faithful to the Great Key’s threshold.”
Merlin floated along one of the candlestone’s crystalline hallways, his body’s radiant light casting just enough glow to guide his path. Learning how to change the shape of his energy field had made it easy to disguise himself when he stopped by to see the rebellion conspirators. He usually spoke only to the six who had since repented of their crimes. Barlow, Edward, Newman, Fiske, Standish, and Woodrow now professed fealty to the king, though Arthur had been dead for centuries. They were good men unwise to allow themselves to be deceived, certainly, but their basic motivations had been noble.
Merlin gazed at his shining body. Now a spiritual entity, bearing no more weight than a flame, he had far more control over his mind and greater clarity of vision. He looked up and concentrated on a tiny light in the distance, the entry hole that drew him into the candlestone yet still prevented any escape because of the gem’s tractive power. He peered through the opening, willing his vision to enlarge the window ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times like a telescope expanding its light-gathering mirrors. Within seconds, it seemed that the entire outside world had enveloped his body, though he merely stood in place, still trapped in a gemstone prison.
On this particular day, since the sun shone so clearly, Devin had to be wearing the gem on the outside of his vest, a perfect time for opening a viewing port. Merlin guided his radiant hand over the surface of one of the crystal’s inner walls. It flashed with light, showing a bouncing panorama of an English road, the scenery in front of Devin as he walked.
With his enhanced spiritual perception, Merlin peered intently through the wall and gazed toward multiple horizons, taking in the sights and sounds of millions of happenings throughout England and even over the northern border in Scotland. Quickly orienting himself to the landscape, he soon located Patrick and listened in on his conversation with Elam and Gabriel.
Merlin shook his head and sighed a stream of energy. They were trying so hard, yet they knew so little. Bound by their physical bodies, they could only comprehend as far as their senses could reach. And Patrick, though he was reasonably wise, had no teacher to guide him past the more difficult obstacles to spiritual maturity. The man who had served so gallantly as Valcor, a noble dragon for a thousand years, would soon face a mind-bending challenge that would stretch every strand in his moral fiber, call into question everything and everyone he had ever loved, and possibly alter his life forever. The future of the dragon race depended on the choices he would soon make, and he had no idea that such a test was coming.
Merlin whispered in the air, breathing a tiny line of twinkling sparks that rose toward the gem’s entry. “Father, what can I do to help? I have left them only scattered scraps of wisdom in an artless song that begs to be translated into coherent speech. Were I to read it, knowing what they know, I would be pulling my hair out in frustration. When I wrote the song, I knew so little of what I was writing. You spoke through me in mysteries too deep for my limited mind to fathom, and now that I no longer see through physical eyes, I can plunge those depths and uncover mysteries so great, my flesh-bound mind would have burst with joy as it tried to grasp your incomprehensible love, wisdom, and goodness.
“Yet, now that I know the answers to my own rhyming parables, I cannot turn the hearers to the path of salvation from ruin, nor dissuade them from the snake-filled pits that lie under indiscernible cover. They need a guide, someone with more knowledge than they possess, someone who can see what has been hidden from their limited perception. Even in my current state, I cannot see what spirit rules their hearts, so I ask you to provide whatever they need, within or without, to allow Valcor to complete his holy mission.”
Merlin’s energy field flashed with a blue tint. Who could possibly fill this massive void? Every potential helper was either dead or
“Merlin!”
Merlin searched for the source of the voice. It couldn’t have come from any of the conspirators. None of them knew who he was. He glanced up at the entry hole. A shining human shape floated down and gently landed in front of him. Surrounded by a radiant red aura, the elderly man smiled. “You seem surprised to see me,
Merlin.”
“Surprised, indeed, and the fact that I don’t recognize you does nothing to diminish my surprise.”
The visitor laughed. “We are both prophets, my friend, so I will not hide my identity. You know that Moses and Elijah were able to make appearances from the spiritual realm. Who else among the prophets might be able to pierce the veil?”
Merlin stroked his chin. “If you are one of those whom God himself buried, whether by earth, by fire, or by air, I suppose you must be Enoch.”
“An air burial is an intriguing metaphor,” Enoch said, “considering the fact that I never really died.”
“Nor did Elijah, but God ended your stays on the earth, so I thought the word choice appropriate.”
“Ah! I see what you mean now.” Enoch’s glow shimmered from head to toe. “In any case, God sent me here in response to your prayer. You asked for a guide for Valcor, and you and I are going to provide one.”
“Then are you setting me free from this prison?” Merlin asked.
“No. You must stay for a little while longer. A prince and princess will arrive here one day, and they will need you to guide them through the valley of the shadow of death, but you will learn about that in due time. For now, you must expand your vision and allow your perspective to follow me. I will take you where your sight has not yet been able to travel and show you how to reach beyond the physical horizons you have already surveyed. Ours is a world of spirit, a sphere of invisible influence, where the forces of light and darkness do battle day and night. As I did through the Ovulum for many centuries, you must provide a window to the world of the living for a God-seeking soul who longs to see the realm of lost loves.”
Merlin bowed. “Although I cannot see how I am to fulfill this great commission, I am at your command, good prophet.”
“I expected you to be willing,” Enoch said, “and I now advise you to be ready for a fight unlike any you have ever seen. In order to complete the creation of the Great Key, we will step into the midst of a climactic battle.”
“The rubellite in the pendant is ready to serve as the Great Key, but who will be the two witnesses?”
Enoch spread out his glowing fingers. “One who will come in a disembodied state similar to ours as well as another witness who is flesh and blood. A number of years must pass before the culmination of that plan, for the dragon king has yet to arrive, and the second witness has yet to find her way.”
Merlin melded his fingers with Enoch’s scarlet wrist. “Is Valcor in as much turmoil as it appears?”
“Without a doubt. He wishes to shelter everyone in his protective wing, yet he knows that God has not called him to cower in the shadows. While Valcor struggles in his mind, the destiny of all dragons hangs in the balance.” Enoch laid his hand on Merlin’s forehead. “Close what is left of your physical eyes and follow me. Since the Oracle of Fire will count on the lessons she has learned through the centuries, our timing must be perfect.”
After poking her head through the neck hole of her fuzzy blue nightgown, Sapphira let the hem drop to her knees. She laid her cross next to Enoch’s scroll at the edge of her floor mat and curled up close to Acacia. Her twin snored lightly, tired from her turn in the village scrounging for food the usual potatoes, cabbages, and beans as well as for books, clothing, and firewood.
All the other scrolls had burned long ago, and the cross’s flames never seemed hot enough for cooking. So if they ever wanted warm food, they had to get fuel, and hauling an armload of wood up to the portal on the steep hill proved to be quite a task. Still, taking turns kept the burden manageable, and the townsfolk thought the same blind girl visited the alleys and dustbins every day probing for castaway remnants. Although they never begged, sometimes their accessories sunglasses, a ragged bonnet, and a walking cane coaxed a bit of monetary sympathy from a few kindhearted souls. The money they collected came in handy for an occasional bar of soap or a newspaper.
Sapphira pulled her blanket to her shoulder. The cavern seemed to get a bit colder every decade, but sleeping had become much more comfortable since the people in the living world began throwing away such treasures as mats and blankets. With only a tiny hole punching through the material here and there, her new bed had provided many nights of comfort without the soreness that her old sand mattress had inflicted, and the threadbare blanket was just enough to ward off the chill.
Still, a mattress alone couldn’t bring complete comfort. Sapphira closed her eyes, trying to shut out the pain of a thousand haunting thoughts, but visions of Elam kept flashing in her mind. What was he doing now? Did he get away from Devin back in, what was it, nineteen thirty something? Or was it only a dream? Was he even alive? If he was, had he forgotten about her?
Over the years since Elam stopped appearing on the screen, every time Sapphira surfaced in Glastonbury to hunt for food or other supplies, she took note of every young man she passed. Strangely enough, many of them smiled at her, though they believed her to be blind, giving her opportunity to study their faces. Hundreds of smiling faces later, no Elam. Images of Paili also haunted her. How old would she appear to be now? Twenty-five? Thirty?
As Sapphira drifted into a dream, her age calculations jumbled together into a mass of battling numbers the fives using their little hats as swords to stab the helpless numeral ones, and the zeroes coming to the ones’ defense by bowling over the fives. The eights joined the fives and pounced on the zeroes, breaking them like fragile eggs. More zeroes rolled in and flattened the eights into lopsided infinity symbols.
The digital war raged on and on until, finally, a few surviving numbers lined up into a neat row, creating “6913,” but there seemed no reason for the sequence. Then, the battling numbers crumbled and blew away in the wind, leaving only darkness.
As Sapphira squirmed toward wakefulness, the portal viewer flashed to life in her mind, showing Paili sitting at a table. She appeared in her eight-year-old body, not as the grown woman she had to be by now. With a long dagger, she sliced one of Morgan’s evil fruits and raised a section to her lips.
Sapphira pitched off her blanket and ran to the screen. “No, Paili!” she cried. “No!”
Paili put the wedge into her mouth and chewed. Blood dripped from her lips, and her face wrinkled into a hideous, mummified mask.
“Why, Paili?” Sapphira wailed, as she sank to her knees. “Why did you eat it? You knew better!”
Paili spat out a red seed. As soon as it hit the table, it grew, stretching into a saltshaker-sized red dragon that stood tall and proud. She spat out another seed, then another, until the tabletop was filled with miniature dragons, each one trumpeting and vying for position near Paili.
A final seed passed through her lips, a red-and-white-striped one that fell to the table and grew into a boy with dragon wings. The dragons spewed fire on him, turning him into a spinning column of flames. A dozen tongues of fire erupted from the column and slurped the dragons into the vortex. Seconds later, the table was clear except for one dragon standing at the center.
The dragon molded into the shape of a man and jumped toward Paili. His body merged with hers, leaving Paili by herself again. A moment later, a girl sprang from Paili’s bosom, a beautiful young lady with sparkling blue eyes and blonde-streaked hair. She sat in a chair next to Paili and folded her hands on the table.
Paili cut out a second wedge from the fruit and handed it to the girl. As the girl studied the wedge, Sapphira cried out again. “No! Whoever you are, don’t eat it!” She closed her eyes and wept, unable to look.
When she finally peeked between her fingers, the scene had cleared again, and an image of Elam appeared, then a boy with wings, then a man who oscillated between being human and a dragon, and finally, Morgan. Although she was in human form, Morgan, using talon-like feet, carried Paili high over a huge estate toward a driveway guarded by two of Shinar’s idols. After landing next to Elam and the dragon man, a sword flashed out of Morgan’s m
outh and stabbed the winged boy. Suddenly, a little girl appeared, and Morgan flew away with the child locked in her talons.
Acacia groaned. Sapphira opened her eyes. They were both still in bed. Now throwing off the covers for real, she hopped up and spun toward the portal. As usual, its dim orange light whirled in a stoic column, slow and silent.
She snatched up her cross and gazed at Acacia for a moment. No use putting her in danger. Besides, even after all her practice, Acacia still wasn’t as adept at opening portals, and portal manipulation might be the only skill that could rescue Morgan’s potential victims.
Sapphira grabbed her upper-world disguise and hurried silently out of the room. If she failed, she didn’t want to risk losing Acacia again.
Chapter 4
Morgan’s Victory
Elam stood on a driveway leading to Patrick’s mansion and leaned against one of two stone columns that supported an open, wrought iron gate, the entrance to the expansive manor. Standing in front of him, Gabriel fidgeted while Patrick unfastened his backpack. “I apologize for my clumsiness,” Patrick said, pulling the pack away, “but you’re free now.”
“Thanks.” Gabriel spread out his wings and shook each of them in turn. “That’s a lot better. It felt like two elephants were hopping on pogo sticks back there.”
Patrick withdrew a small handgun from the pack and slid it into his pocket. “Perhaps they were jumpy because of my revolver.”
“Could be. More likely because I’m as jumpy as a cricket in a frying pan.”
Elam pointed an unlit torch at the backpack. “Are your wings always uncomfortable when you stuff them in there?”
“You get used to it.” Gabriel lifted each shoulder in turn. “Well, sort of.”
Elam backed away from the gate’s supporting column. Chiseled with eight vertically stacked hideous faces, it looked like a prop from a bad horror movie. He had recognized these remnants of Shinar’s idols when he first saw them bordering the driveway, but he hadn’t remembered to ask Patrick about them. He poked one of the faces with the torch. “How’d these get here?”