Eye of the Oracle oof-1

by Bryan Davis

  Jared lifted his eyes toward the king and slowly stood. “Sire, I humbly accept the gracious bestowal of your good name. May I always bring the name of Arthur honor and a blessed heritage.”

  Irene stood at Jared’s side. “I, too, am honored, Your Majesty.” She rubbed her hand across her bare forearm. Her skin seemed to radiate silvery white. “Having shorn my scales, and with them the dignity of a dragoness, I now feel clothed once again with the integrity, nobility, and heritage your deeds have inspired. May I wear this livery well.”

  Arthur’s solemn face broke into a proud, fatherly smile. “Well spoken, my friends. I trust that I will be able to live up to my duty and keep you safe in your new skins. Have the other dragons taken the necessary steps to secure their safety?”

  Jared glanced at Irene. “The ladies have chosen new names and blended into life in the nearby villages or secluded themselves elsewhere, as you instructed. We do not know, however, what has become of Valcor.”

  Arthur’s brow lifted. “I was with him in Bowman’s Forest only a few weeks ago. I assume he has gone into hiding.”

  “We have assumed the same,” Jared said. “At least Devin will never be able to learn his whereabouts from us, even through torture.”

  The king took off his formal outer robe and handed it to Merlin. “Speaking of Devin, now that our ceremony is complete, we must make haste.”

  “Indeed.” Merlin placed Excalibur and the robe on his chair. “Devin’s traitorous band could attack at any moment. I have arranged for your knights to secretly assemble at Blood Hollow, so I suggest that you leave through your escape route at once to convene with them. Gawain will meet you at the tunnel exit and escort you to the other knights.”

  Arthur strapped on his armor and reached for his sword on Merlin’s seat.

  Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist. “But you must leave Excalibur.”

  Arthur pulled away from the prophet’s grip and lifted the sheathed sword in his palms. “Go into battle without the sword?” He strapped the scabbard to the belt on his back. “I should say not!”

  “I have more need of it,” Merlin said, holding out his hands. “Devin’s tiny army is counting on surprise to win. When you arrive, your forces will crush him like a shoe on a cockroach. Should you come late, Excalibur is my only hope for survival.”

  Arthur placed his hand on Excalibur’s hilt and hesitated. Outside the door the distant sound of clanking steps shattered the evening’s quiet meeting.

  “There is no more time,” Merlin urged. “Trust me! Leave Excalibur and fly to Blood Hollow. Gawain will have a sword for you.”

  Arthur unfastened the sword from his belt, scabbard and all, and handed it to Merlin. He then scrambled to the secret panel in the corner and shut it behind him.

  Merlin picked up Arthur’s robe and helped Jared put it on. “Should I wear the crown?” Jared asked.

  Merlin helped him straighten out the sleeves. “No. Your hair is a close enough match, so the robe should be sufficient. Just keep your back to the door. I expect Devin to enter at any moment.” He turned to Irene. “You may face the door and kneel before our ‘king.’ Can you make yourself cry?”

  Irene shook her head. “I have not yet learned all the ways of women. I have shed many tears, but I cannot force them.”

  “Then try to look sad, as though entreating the king for someone’s life.”

  Within seconds a servant came to the throne room’s doorway. “Sir Devin to see His Majesty.”

  Merlin nodded to Jared, who spun toward the back of the room. Irene dropped to her knees and extended her folded hands toward him, twisting her face in counterfeit pain. Merlin stepped to the entryway to intercept the quickly marching Devin. “His Majesty has a guest, Sir Devin. May I give him a message for you?”

  Devin looked over Merlin’s shoulder. “Is the lady ill? She seems to be having intestinal distress.”

  “Not sickness; her entreaty is a private matter. We will be in prayer for her for the next half hour, and then I shall escort His Majesty to his chamber.”

  Merlin noted a hint of a smile in Devin’s otherwise stoic expression. Devin bowed and spoke in his most formal and reverent voice. “Please give His Majesty my blessings, and I will spend the entire half hour on my knees as well.” The knight gave Merlin a polite nod. “Good evening to you, Master Merlin.” He left the court with the same quick march that brought him in.

  When the door closed, Jared turned around. “Do you think it worked?”

  “I think so. A man who is not trustworthy rarely trusts anyone, yet, I believe that our ruse has convinced him that King Arthur is in this room.”

  Irene stood and brushed her knees. “Then how soon will he attack?”

  “He believes he has a half hour, so I would guess we have only half of that before he strikes.” Merlin pulled Excalibur from its sheath. A blinding beam of light shot from its tip and burned a hole through the ceiling. “I will have to use Excalibur to extinguish the enemy, and in the process, I will conduct my greatest experiment.”

  “Experiment?” Jared asked.

  Merlin cast his gaze on Jared and Irene. “I have tested the sword at length. Excalibur does not merely cut; it transforms. It changes matter into light energy; it transluminates. If I wield it to kill, its radiance will shatter a man’s bones into shards of flashing luminescence, and his remains will be absorbed into a candle’s breath. And his soul? If it is not somehow trapped on the earth, it will be sent straight to the judgment seat of God.

  “Jared,” Merlin continued, “you and Irene must enter the tunnel door for safety. When Excalibur’s power fills the room, all who remain will be transluminated. Although I bear the sword, even I will be changed.”

  “Changed into what?” Irene asked.

  “As with the rest, my body will likely become light energy, though I think I will survive. Whether I will ever regain a body, I cannot say.”

  A sudden clanking of soldiers’ weapons and marching footsteps echoed in the outer hallway. Merlin pushed Jared and Irene toward the corner door. “Go! Go!”

  The pair of former dragons hurried across the room and disappeared into the secret passage, drawing the access panel closed behind them. Seconds later, two armed men broke through the main entry door and stretched loaded bowstrings back to their ears. Merlin held Excalibur in both hands, its point straight up. “Barlow and Edward, you should know better than to distrust a prophet of the living God!”

  The soldiers raised their forearms to shield their eyes from the blinding light. Six others poured through the door and halted as they beheld the sword.

  When a full dozen had arrived, Merlin waved the sword in a great circle. The soldiers seemed rooted to the stone floor, their legs trembling like saplings in a storm’s fury. A single beam from Excalibur’s tip multiplied into hundreds. The beams flashed in all directions until they joined together in a massive curtain of light.

  Merlin gazed upward. “Now, my Lord Christ, take me on this great adventure to find the dragons’ messiah.” The moment he waved Excalibur, a luminescent surge washed through the court, and particles of sparkling light buzzed through the traitors. As their bodies melted away, shields and armor clattered to the floor to mark where men had once stood.

  The surge splashed back at Merlin. Dazzling light blinded his eyes, a tingling sensation covered his body, and a loud buzzing vibrated in his ears. He floated above the platform, his sense of sight transforming. Somehow everything looked like competing sources of light, some brilliant, some almost dark, and others in between.

  Looking at himself, he saw his body as a stream of sparkling light, barely recognizable as a body at all. Other similar streams, maybe a dozen or so, floated around the room.

  A human form dashed across the floor of the throne room, its light flickering between bright and dim. It looked like Jared, anxiously searching through something on the floor, apparently the remains of the armor the treacherous soldiers had left behind when they dissolved.
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  Another man marched into the room, a shadow that emanated no light at all. Merlin willed himself closer and saw the image of Devin outlined on the shadow’s face. Jared’s light shimmered as it hid in the drapes behind the throne.

  Devin suddenly leaned over. When he stood again, he held a bright object in his hand, long and sleek. Seconds after Devin picked it up, the object darkened, becoming just a sword-like extension of his shadow.

  For a moment, Devin disappeared from the room. Jared’s form emerged again, and he seemed to shout, his voice warped. “Devin, you son of a leprous jackal! You recreant thief, plucking treasures from dead men’s bones! Come back here and fight like a man!”

  Devin reappeared, this time with a bright object in front of his chest, some kind of pendant that sparkled against his dark silhouette. Merlin felt drawn to it, as though it pulled his weightless body with a strange, tractive power.

  The other sparkling masses streamed toward the pendant and vanished. Merlin fought against the flow like a fish struggling upstream. It was no use. The force elongated his body and slurped him toward the pendant.

  He tried to watch the confrontation between Devin and Jared. They seemed to be fighting. Jared fell to the floor, but that was all Merlin could see before the room vanished. He tumbled down an avalanche of pure light, hurtling toward a black sphere. He plunged into it, feeling no pain, only a sinking sensation as darkness enveloped him. His body seemed to settle and stop, as though he stood on an endless floor. Twelve masses of sparks stood nearby, huddling close and flashing green, yellow, and red.

  Merlin tried to sort out all the amazing images and evaluate his situation. He and the traitors had been transformed into light energy and absorbed into the candlestone as it hung around Devin’s neck. Now they were trapped inside a crystalline prison, riding within the candlestone’s walls as the dark knight’s prisoners, though Devin likely had no idea they were there.

  When Merlin tried to speak to the others, a stream of light energy carried his thoughts. “Barlow?” His voice seemed to buzz through the darkness. “Edward?”

  “I am Barlow,” one of the sparkling masses replied. “Edward is next to me. . I think.”

  “Yes.” Edward’s energy field turned bluish white. “I am here, a young fool at your service. May I ask who addresses us?”

  Merlin decided to keep his anonymity, at least for the time being. “You are, indeed, a fool. What helped you learn your lesson so quickly?”

  “As soon as Merlin raised Excalibur and its holy light passed over my body, it was as though I could see everything the prophet’s integrity, Devin’s plot, and my own stupidity.” Edward’s energy shrank to a quivering ball of purple light. “I am but a fool. My dear mother will die in disgrace, and I will never be able to wear my father’s name. He deserved better than the stooge who masquerades as his son.”

  Merlin’s mass of sparks grew bright white. “Hear me, Edward, son of Edmund. Remember what you learned in the light and never doubt it even if you have to spend years in the dark. Heed my words, and you will eventually earn a place of honor and regain your father’s name.” His energy dwindled back to normal, and he willed himself into motion. “Think about what I have said. I will see you again.”

  Elam scooted back into a dark cleft of the secret passageway, watching the beautiful lady as she stooped low, peering out of the slightly open panel. He had already learned her name by listening in on her adoption ceremony Irene, the king’s new daughter. Quiet and cautious, she spied on the happenings in the throne room.

  A man shouted, “Devin, you son of a leprous jackal! You recreant thief, plucking treasures from dead men’s bones! Come back here and fight like a man!” The sound of evil laughter followed, then, seconds later, the clashing of swords and loud grunting.

  The woman gasped. She kept opening the panel farther, then closing it, as if fearing someone might spot her. Finally, she threw it open and dashed into the throne room. Elam leaped to the panel and peeked out. Several knights were carrying a bleeding man and hustling him toward the passageway.

  As the group burst into his hideout, Elam ducked back into the cleft and crouched low. Irene led them down the tunnel, a lantern swinging in her hand. “Follow me!” she cried. “We have to get Jared to Thigocia.” In less than a minute, the lantern’s light faded away.

  Elam crept into the open and pulled out the Ovulum. “Fiat lux,” he whispered. It glowed red, just enough to guide his way through the tunnel. Though it had been hard to believe, Merlin’s amazing stories were all true the coming rebellion, the former dragons, even the secret to calling for the light of the Ovulum.

  After quietly closing the panel, he picked up his knapsack and tiptoed in the direction Irene had fled. Now it was time to fulfill the sacred duty Merlin had charged him with, a secret mission he could reveal to no one, at least until the Eye gave him permission. He lowered his head and sprinted. He couldn’t get too far behind, not if he was to find the former dragon named Thigocia.

  Chapter 12

  In Hiding

  Jared and Irene huddled around a flickering candle. A tent draped across three short poles acted as their only break against a chill wind. As they rubbed their fingers in the candle’s fragile warmth, their breaths troubled the flame. Jared sat cross-legged on a threadbare gray blanket, watching the changes in her expression the anxiety in her furrowed brow, the fear in her wide eyes, and the pain in her tight bluish red lips. He glanced from time to time at the tent’s entrance, wondering if the occasional snaps of twigs or hoots of owls signaled coming danger.

  With his hands clenched over his mouth, Jared took in a deep breath and whispered between his thumbs. “If he is not here soon, Irene, we have to assume the worst. Valcor is no match for Devin.”

  Irene placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “He is no match in battle, but my brother is wiser by far. Do not give up hope. I would not have arranged our meeting had I thought this a fool’s errand.”

  Jared raised his head. “I heard a nightingale.”

  Irene whispered, “It is the signal.” She pursed her lips and blew a warbling bird whistle.

  Within seconds, the tent flap flew open, and a man with water dripping from his sleeves bustled in.

  Irene grasped the man’s arm. “Valcor! Are you hurt?”

  Valcor, stooping under the low ceiling, shook his head, panting. “Devin. . Devin tracked me to the river’s edge, so I swam. . swam upstream as far as I could.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I ran the rest of the way. It will be some time before the dogs pick up the trail again, but we must hurry.” He pulled a scroll from his vest, sat beside Jared, and rolled it out on the blanket. “I found the letter, and I managed to keep it above water.”

  Irene glanced upward and clasped her hands together. “Thank the Maker!”

  Wrapping his arms around himself, Valcor shivered. “Yes. It is a miracle that I escaped. My bribe must not have been rich enough to keep the guard quiet.” He rolled up his wet sleeves and ran his fingers across the parchment. “But this information is worth all the trouble.”

  Jared eyed the letter. “It is lengthy. Please give us a summary.”

  Valcor held the letter close to the dancing flame. “It is clear that Devin is now more dangerous than ever.”

  “But he failed,” Irene said. “Arthur and Merlin squashed the rebellion.”

  “Devin did not fail completely. He took Excalibur, and now Merlin has vanished. Who can predict how powerful Devin and Morgan will become?”

  Valcor slid the candle closer to the letter. “This explains what I believe is an even greater danger. You see, Merlin promised to tell Morgan how to restore her wandering spirit to a body. The promise, it seems, has been fulfilled in this letter, which I recently learned was in Devin’s possession.”

  Irene shifted to Valcor’s side and draped her shawl across his shoulders. She eyed the letter’s exquisite penmanship. “Why would Merlin make such a promise to a witch?”

  Va
lcor took his sister’s hand. “I asked Merlin that very question before he disappeared. He said the plan is of divine origin and extends well beyond his vision, but we should not worry; God knows what he is doing. In any case, as you may already know, Morgan is not a common variety witch. She is the wife of a Watcher. Her original name was Lilith, a wretched enchantress who lived before the flood. Her husband taught her the evil arts of the fallen angels, but she did not know that practicing these arts would cause her to become a wraith. She actually took on the nature of the Watchers and has no hope of redemption without regaining a body and giving herself in obedience to the Christ.”

  A peal of thunder rolled across the sky. Valcor’s gaze flashed toward the tent entrance as he rolled up the letter and thrust it back into his vest. “There is much to explain, and time is short.” He held his hand over his vest pocket. “Merlin told Morgan she needs a hostiam viventem, a living sacrifice, in order to shed her ghostly cowl. That sacrifice has to be a legal, female relative of the king. Morgan had her evil eye on Guinevere, but not even the Watchers’ arts could persuade Arthur to give up his wife. So, it seems that she changed her plan, hoping Devin could take the throne during the rebellion.”

  “But how would that further her cause?” Jared asked. “Devin has no wife and no female relatives that I know of.”

  “Who would have him?” Irene sliced her hand across her throat. “I would kill myself before I let that piece of filth touch me!”

  Valcor smirked. “Even dead, you might still be a target, Irene. Merlin wrote that a deceased woman can be a hostiam providing, of course, the body has not been dead for very long. But Devin would have no need to hunt for corpses. If he had succeeded in usurping the throne, he would have had his choice of women. Morgan would have entered his wife and become queen, and Devin would have the power to rule the world. I believe Devin would have put up with a witch of a wife for a prize like that.”