The Bones of Makaidos

by Bryan Davis

  His hot breath stung her skin, raising a shudder. “I fear it. I never enjoy pain. But if that’s what I’m called to do, I’ll just endure it. I’m strong enough.”

  Abaddon’s eyes sparkled. “How refreshing, a human who is willing to reveal both weaknesses and strengths. Most of your race would interpret self-deprecation as the only honesty, but such expression is usually nothing more than false humility.” He shook his head sadly. “Masks. Nothing more than masks. When in the company of cats and clowns, mice and cowards paint on frowns.”

  “So do you think I’m wearing a mask?”

  “Do you think you are?”

  “No. I was wondering if you thought I was.”

  Abaddon looked her in the eye. “You have confidence, but even that can be a disguise. Pride is the most sinister of masks, for it blinds the wearer. The parading peacock does not recognize how ridiculous he looks. He fans his tail, and no one is impressed, save for the foolish fowl himself.”

  Bonnie spread out her hands. “I have confidence because of who gives me strength. Without God, I’m nobody. But with God, I believe I can do anything.”

  “Is that so?” His gaze ran up and down her face. “Are you also confident that your motivations are pure?”

  She nodded. “I am. I have confidence in the one who has made me pure.”

  “Then tell me, dragon girl, are you ready to be set aflame in order to go to Second Eden and give yourself up for those who need your help? Or do you really want to go there to see a young man to whom you think you are prophetically promised?”

  “Think?” She half closed one eye. “What are you trying to say?”

  “You believe you have trusted in prophecy, yet you have merely trusted in your interpretation. Surely you cannot fail, you say to yourself, because the prophecy guarantees your future betrothed bliss. Shall I quote the verse that has emboldened you to risk your life in the past, the one upon which you rely, thereby making you think of yourself as indestructible?”

  Bonnie stared at him. Should she answer, or was this rhetorical? She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The dragon spoke the words in a low sing-song voice.

  The child of doubt will find his rest

  And meet his virgin bride

  A dragon shorn will live again

  Rejecting Eden’s pride

  His head shot toward her, stopping just before his snout touched her nose. “There are other children of doubt. There are other virgin brides. Elam and Sapphira fit this prophecy as well as Billy and you do, and when Makaidos rises, the dragon shorn will live again. He was the dragon king who tried to hold his family together in spite of the rebellion of his own children. Surely that qualifies him as one who has rejected Eden’s pride, does it not?”

  Closing her eyes, Bonnie lowered her head. “I see what you mean.”

  “Now you know that this prophecy promises you nothing. If you go to Second Eden, you could die, and you would lose the life you have dreamed about for these many months.”

  Smelling something burning, Bonnie opened her eyes. Her shoes smoldered, and her laces were on fire. The heat stung, but it wasn’t too bad yet. “I still want to go. My purposes don’t conflict. I mean, I can see Billy and give myself up for people at the same time.”

  “Your point is valid, but if a situation arises in which you must choose death to save someone, will you do so, knowing that you will certainly lose your future with the young man?”

  Bonnie closed her eyes again, this time tightly. She had faced danger so many times, but had she been willing to die for someone else? Did it occur to her during each instance of danger that the prophecy protected her, or did she just act sacrificially without thinking about herself at all?

  As if answering her question, a memory rose from the depths of her mind, the image she had recently seen played out above Abaddon’s book. In the vision, she pushed a board into an electrified doorway in order to let Shiloh out of the sixth circle of Hades. When it sprang back and flew out of her grip, she replaced it with her wing, blocking the deadly field. Shiloh escaped, and Bonnie was thrown out into the street. A few moments later, she died.

  She opened her eyes and looked straight into the dragon’s. “I would choose death.”

  “Would you really? Have you enough courage to face the flames? Would you refuse to recant your testimony or recoil at the agony of rejection and repudiation? When the fires of persecution scald your skin, and the daggers of those who were once your friends cut out your heart, will you give praise to the Maker that you were found worthy to travail through these torments?”

  With heat now burning her ankles, she grimaced but nodded firmly. “I would never recant or recoil, and I will always give praise to Jehovah Yasha, and my savior, Jesus Christ.”

  Abaddon’s nostrils flared. “We will see about that.”

  Flames shot up to Bonnie’s knees, melting the skin on her legs. Pain ripped through her body. Screaming filled her ears. Was the screaming her own? Darkness trickled across her vision like blood vessels filled with burnt oil. The agony was unbearable. How long would it last?

  Bonnie let out a long wail. “Oh, God! Oh, God, help me! It burns!”

  She glanced at the ovula on the table mounts. Makaidos and her father stared at her, obviously sharing her pain, but they could do nothing to help.

  Seemingly unaffected by her anguish, the dragon continued. “Now for another question.” As the sizzle and stench of her burning flesh permeated the room, he turned on his lasers and focused the beams on her eyes. “You say that you now know why you must be set aflame.” He paused for a moment as if to let his words add to her suffering. “Why?”

  “I … I …” She couldn’t speak. The flames climbed to her waist and slowly crawled up her back, onto her wings, and up to her chest. Heaving, gasping, panting, she tried to force out an answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Were they even in her mind? Did she really not know after all?

  “Bonnie Silver!” Abaddon shouted. His call echoed throughout the chamber, repeating again and again. “Why must you be set aflame?”

  Even as he finished his question, her name continued to echo. Bonnie Silver … Bonnie Silver.

  She spat out her words, each one a torture. “My … my name … is Silver. All dross … is purged … and my body … is a living … illustration.”

  “But you must have some dross remaining. Hidden lies in secret places?” His eyebeams brightened. “Envy? Lust? Or do you seriously want me to believe this notion that the dross is already gone? Is your mask one of pride after all?”

  “No!” she screamed. “Not a mask. … God purged … my dross … long ago.”

  The flames shot out across her arms and up to her neck, forcing her to lift her chin. Gasping, she screamed again, this time a wordless, gut-wrenching cry.

  The book on the table flipped open on its own, and a feather-tipped pen flew into Abaddon’s clawed hand. An image rose from the pages, taking shape as it expanded. It looked like a three-dimensional Christmas card, dozens of people gathered in a circle in the midst of a heavy snowfall.

  Abaddon pointed the pen at her. “You, dragon girl, hid your wings in a backpack from the time you were six years old. Were you protecting your mother from a slayer, or were you just afraid of being called a freak? When you had the opportunity to give up your wings, what went through your mind? Were they a gift from God, or were they a curse?” He snorted twin jets of fire from his nostrils. “Oh, I know you display them now, but you have cleverly concealed your earlier decision from all except your mother. Such is the character of hidden dross.”

  With light fading in and out, Bonnie shook her head hard. She had to stay conscious, no matter the pain. Still, she couldn’t answer. Agony clamped her throat shut.

  Abaddon transferred the pen to his tail and reached it toward the book. He poised it over the page as if ready to write. “What did you decide? If you kept your wings, was it to parade like the proverbial peacock because of the power they gave
you?” He let out a low laugh. “Yes, that would be it. Power. A greedy lust for power is surely your hidden dross.”

  Summoning all her strength, Bonnie cried out. “My dross … is gone! … Leave me alone!”

  “But you have not answered. Did you give up your wings?” As Abaddon scratched something down with the pen, smoke rose from the page. “Perhaps that is it. You considered a gift from God something to be spurned. You lacked contentment with how he created you.”

  Bonnie pressed her lips together. The torture was awful … worse than awful.

  He set his head directly in front of her face and shouted, “Answer me!”

  “No!” The fire leaped over her nose and roared across her eyes. Heaving scalding breaths, she coughed out each word. “I … will … not … answer!”

  Suddenly, the pain vanished. The broiling heat eased to gentle warmth. Bonnie looked at her hands, still on fire. Flames crackled on her arms and legs, yet there was no pain, not even a hint of discomfort. She looked up at the dragon. “What happened?”

  With a flick of his tail, Abaddon dropped his pen and smiled. “You have withstood the test, precious child. Your confidence in God’s purging power is exceedingly rare, and your steadfastness has proven the purity of your silver.” He let out a long sigh. “It is such a shame that others choose chastisement. Those who hide God’s purifying handiwork will never learn to stop suffering. They will wear the masks of fear, false humility, and fetters until they discover freedom.”

  She turned her hands over and back and watched the flames curl with her motions. “So will I stay on fire now?”

  “Physically? Yes, for a time. When you are called from the place of resurrection, you will rise without perceptible fire, but those who love you will know that you still burn. They will enjoy its warmth and rally with its unquenchable passion. Those who despise truth, however, will flee from your fire. You will be a flaming sword that cuts deeply to the heart, exposing the lies they tell themselves. They will not understand that you strike with love, for your words will feel like flaming arrows.”

  Bonnie gazed at her fiery torso. It felt wonderful, like floating in sunshine. Her vision had magnified. Every scale in the dragon’s hide seemed divided by deep crevices, and the capillaries in his eyes looked like pulsing rivers of red.

  The scene floating over the book also clarified. A small group of people huddled at the center of the circle, apparently talking about something, concern bending their expressions. Their emotions seeped into her mind—turmoil, lack of trust, indecisiveness. And a familiar face turned toward her. Was it Billy? Yes, it was! Maybe this was a picture of Second Eden, and they were getting ready to call someone to resurrection. Soon either her father or Makaidos would be swept into that world, and their suffering would be over.

  Still, something was wrong. A strange sense of melancholy weighed down her mind—troubled thoughts, sadness, heaviness of heart.

  “I … I feel strange.”

  “You do?” the dragon asked. “Describe your feelings, please.”

  She laid a hand against her chest. “Heartache and loneliness, the despair of souls wandering lost.”

  “Your eloquence is exquisite, and your emotions are inexpedient, to be sure. Now that you have become what you are, this will be your burden forevermore.”

  “What am I?”

  “There is someone else here who could tell you.” Abaddon’s eyebeams lifted over Bonnie’s body and settled over a shadow on a wall behind her. “You may come out, Sapphira. I know where you have hidden yourself.”

  Bonnie turned that way. With all the pain, she had forgotten about Sapphira.

  A white-topped head poked out from the shadow. “I am here.”

  “Bonnie Silver has questions that you are able to address, but first, I will ask you one.”

  Folding her hands at her waist, Sapphira stepped fully into the light. “I will try to answer.”

  “Why did you stay hidden while your friend suffered?”

  “Because I figured out what you were doing,” Sapphira said. “It was not my place to interfere or distract from your purpose. During this initial suffering event, Bonnie had to be alone.”

  “Your years of experience have produced a great deal of wisdom, Oracle of Fire. Now you may address Bonnie’s questions.”

  “What questions?” Bonnie asked.

  “You asked what you are,” Sapphira replied, “and you wondered about your feelings of heartache.” She raised a hand. Her fingers caught fire and caressed Bonnie’s flaming cheek. “To become what you are now, you had to suffer, and you had to suffer alone. You can now see what others cannot, and you feel the pain of those who lack your perception. They toil in misery and heartache. Because of their bondage to the things they see with their physical eyes, they cannot see the light of freedom and the key that will unlock the chains of slavery.”

  Sapphira’s flames crawled down her arm and spread slowly across her body. “And even as you offer them the key, they will flee from you, because your light is too bright, and your fire is too hot. They are so accustomed to slavery, they cannot comprehend the freedom that comes from walking in the fire of God. They fear the pain of purging. They disbelieve the results. They cannot conceive of pure silver, unsullied by even a pinch of dross. You are an illustration, as you put it, a portrait that ignites their fears and raises their retaliating fists, yet instead of fighting back, you reach out again and again, because you feel their pain in your heart, their lostness, their despair.”

  Now fully engulfed in flames, Sapphira took Bonnie’s fiery hand in hers. “You sense the pain because you are now an Oracle of Fire.”

  Holding his sword in place at his hip, Elam ran across the field toward the birthing garden. Ahead, a gathering of villagers had split into two groups, allowing Acacia and Billy to pass between them as they walked toward Valiant, who had bowed low when Acacia drew near.

  When he caught up with Billy, he slowed his pace and walked at his side. “Cliffside is guarding the triage hut,” Elam said.

  Billy whispered, “Why didn’t anyone tell you about the villagers gathering out here? Aren’t they keeping you informed?”

  “I’m not sure.” Elam patted Billy on the back. “Let’s talk about it later. The moon’s about to rise. When the light strikes the garden, it’ll be too late to do this.”

  As Elam and Billy approached, Valiant bowed, though not quite so low as he had for Acacia.

  “Valiant,” Elam said, returning a quick bow, “we have only a few minutes before we must begin. Have you considered our dilemma?”

  The cold breeze tossed snow from Valiant’s black curls, but he seemed warm enough in his thick, fur-lined cloak, though the front was partially open, revealing his battle uniform. “I agree that the matter raises serious questions. Another from your world has provided more information than perhaps even you know.” He nodded at Rebekah, who sat with Dallas at the inner part of the circle. “It seems that a surgeon, a former dragon named Kaylee Saunders, wants to come here to aid our cause. If we call for a doctor, perhaps she will be able to pass through the portal.”

  Elam crossed his arms and shivered. “Perhaps is a crucial word. I already erred in changing Enoch’s words once, and it brought an evil force to this world that waits for an opportunity to attack. Do you think it’s wise to alter the prophecy again? Are these events a sign from God, or nothing more than a coincidence?”

  “A little girl lies drowning in her own blood, and there is no one here who can save her life.” Valiant touched his chest, his thumb lingering on a dragon insignia. “I am a warrior. Whether I fight with weapons of steel driven into the dark hearts of our enemies, or weapons of song lifted to the Father of Lights, I do so for one purpose, to protect the little ones. It is true that casualties of war are inevitable, and losing one or two might not seem much of a sacrifice when compared to gaining a warrior of Timothy’s caliber, but if we gain his help at the cost of Listener’s life …”

  His
voice faltered. Gripping the hilt of a dagger attached to his belt, he swallowed before continuing. “I have been in many battles, and it is always for the little ones that I take my blade into the midst of bloody conflicts with no thought for my own life. Without the Listeners of this world, there would be nothing to fight for. If we do not do all we can to save her from perishing …” He withdrew his dagger and dropped it to the ground. “I will not fight, for I will then be a traitor to the very cause for which we have shed our blood.”

  Elam looked at the dagger lying on the ground. As it reflected the light of Pegasus, which peeked over the horizon, he could only stare at the blade in silence.

  Valiant picked it up and shoved it back into its sheath. “Timothy himself refused to sacrifice that precious girl, even at the cost of his own life. He had no assurances that his sacrifice would bring about the salvation of his daughters, just as we do not know if our call for a surgeon will raise one from this garden. But do you believe that he would fight for traitors, the betrayers we would be if we sacrificed this child now? I say no. And I would join him in his refusal. I say we trust the Father of Lights to honor our faith in him, whether we are foolishly believing in scrolls falling from a museum shelf or a spyglass falling from the sky.”

  Without a second’s hesitation, Elam nodded at Acacia. “Let it be so.”

  Acacia reached for Ruth’s hand and helped her stand up. With the people again rising and bowing, she and Ruth walked hand in hand and stopped at the edge of the garden. As she faced the rows of plants, Ruth lifted her hands and called out, “Let every lantern darken, and I will begin when the last light fades.”

  As the flickering lights died away, Elam whispered to Billy. “She’s repeating the ceremony.”

  “I guessed that. I was standing at the side last time, so I couldn’t hear much.” Billy watched Ruth, a woman he had only recently learned much more about. Although she seemed normal, she was once Paili, a plant hybrid much like Acacia, and she blossomed into a lovely woman who eventually became Patrick’s wife. And, like Patrick, she was able to turn a red rubellite into a white gem, which meant, she thought, that her hybrid status had passed away for good. Since she wasn’t one of the Oracles of Fire, who were able to change a rubellite even in their hybrid state, she was probably right.