Eye of the Oracle

chapter 3

THE HIDDEN PORTAL

Sapphira stood on the top rung of the ladder, stretching to reach the upper edge of the highest shelf in the museum’s library. Grabbing it with her fingertips, she pulled herself up and slid her feet in the usual spaces between stacks of scrolls. With a muffled grunt, she swung her body up on top of the shelf. Fortunately, Anak stood guard on the other side of the museum’s wall, out of sight and out of hearing range.

Resting for a moment, she looked out from her lofty perch. Her vision had already become sharper, the first sign that a portal was near, the clue that had helped her find this one years ago when she was searching the top shelf for something new to read. For some reason, this portal was invisible, not a column of light like the others in the below lands, maybe because it originated in the world above.

Darkness veiled the distant floor, but with her enhanced vision, she could still see the ring of twelve statues saluting the focal tree. Not far above, the room’s ceiling arched to a peak at the center a dome covered with crisscrossing lattice. Two horizontal support beams intersected beneath the dome, one of them attached to the wall next to Sapphira.

Since the curved ceiling began its upward arch near the wall, she had to crawl along the beam to stay beneath the dome, but as she slid out toward the center of the room, she was able to straighten and eventually rise to her feet. Inching toward the intersection, she spread her arms to keep her balance. A sense of sadness crept into her mind, darkness and loneliness, the second clue that had helped her find the portal that lay ahead.

The feeling of sadness grew, pure despair invading her mind, images of Acacia plummeting into the chasm, Nimrod’s hand swinging toward her unguarded cheek, and Morgan’s twisted face as she cried, “Freak of nature!”

Finally reaching the intersection, she withdrew a stick from her pocket and looked straight up, holding it high. She whispered, “Flames, come to my firebrand.” Instantly, a lively flame ignited the end of the stick. Curling her toes around the edge of the beam, she swung the torch in a slow circle and closed her eyes, imagining a swirl of warmth enveloping her as it did on that night long ago when she danced with Elohim.

As soon as the sensation of heat sank to her fingers, she opened her eyes again and watched the flame expand as it fell around her body and spun into a cone. Within seconds, the cocoon of fire enveloped her, and sparks of light flashed all around. Then, as she slowed her torch, she lowered it, allowing the flames to dissolve. Now, instead of the high reaches of an ancient tower, a castle stood at the top of a steep hill. Apple trees and gardenias grew all around, and their fragrance wafted past on a gentle breeze. Off to the right, the sun settled low on the horizon, casting her long thin shadow across the grass. She sprinted to the closest apple tree and ducked behind the trunk, away from the view of the castle, and, she hoped, away from Morgan’s piercing eyes.

She laid her stick at the base of the tree and glanced at the swamp behind her, shivering at the thought of the horrible serpents lurking beneath the deceptively peaceful surface. During a previous visit, stopping to wash her face in the shallows had almost proved fatal. If not for her proximity to the portal and resulting sharp vision, she would have been a wiggling belly lump at the bottom of the swamp.

As she skittered up the hill toward the castle, she pulled her veil down and bent low. Several flat terraces interrupted the slope, like a giant’s grassy stair steps. As she approached the dark building at the hill’s apex, she slowed her pace. Sneaking past a pair of turrets, she imagined a watchful guard peering out of one of the tiny windows. After circling around to the back of the castle, she stopped at a heavy wooden door, painted black and speckled with mildew splotches.

The door was locked, as usual, but a barred window up above allowed a breeze to flap the inner draperies. A thick vine grew along the side of the door, leading past the window on its meandering climb over mossy stones.

The short steeple in the center of the castle’s roof cast a long shadow over her, providing some cover for her familiar climb. She grasped the vine and began scaling the wall, poking her toes into the tiny cracks between the stones as she pulled her way up the slippery surface.

After swinging herself to the window’s ledge, she pushed her head between the bars, then grunted softly as she forced her torso into the elaborate bedchamber.

Sapphira pushed her veil up and tiptoed into the corridor. The waning sunrays streamed through a stained glass window on one end, red and blue panes filtering the orange light and casting eerie colors across her path. She glanced both ways and leaned against a railing that overlooked the lower floor. No one was in sight. She had seen Morgan twice during her other visits here, and Naamah once, but she had managed to avoid them . . . barely. Getting caught meant certain death for her and probably for Paili as well.

Sidestepping the creaky boards, Sapphira scooted down the stairs, then hurried along a maze of corridors until she found a thick wooden door slightly ajar, as usual. Picking up an unlit torch from a nearby basket, she nudged the door open wide enough to squeeze through. She descended the stone steps, and the tiny sliver of light from the doorway above faded.

Gripping the torch more tightly, she whispered, “Grant me fire to light my way.” The top of the torch flickered, then blazed with light. Sapphira grimaced and whispered again. “Not so much!” The fire died down, giving just enough light to illuminate each step as she continued the deep plunge.

When Sapphira reached the bottom, she padded quietly across the hard dirt floor, following a glow of wavering lights in the distance. Twenty lanterns, some lit and some unlit, hung on each side of a pair of iron gates that blocked a rectangular entryway through a solid wall. The gaps between the black bars were too narrow even for her to squeeze through. The first time she had tried, her head had become wedged, and she spent nearly an hour freeing herself. Finding no way to get in that night, she finally gave up and went home. Since then, however, she had figured out how to pass. It had taken years of thought, but she finally deciphered the code and had since made it through the gate many times. The secret was in remembering Mardon’s control room combination.

Waving her arm across the field of lanterns, she whispered, “Sleep!” and every wick fell dark. Then, pointing at the first lantern on the left, she said, “Awake!” and it flashed to life. After repeating the command to the next five lanterns, Sapphira leaned her head toward the gate’s locking mechanism. A faint click sounded. She waved her hand at the lanterns again. “Sleep!” They all darkened.

She sidestepped toward the lanterns on the right and pointed at the first nine in order, commanding them to awaken. Then, after listening for the lock to click, she waved them back to darkness. Finally, moving to the left again, she lit thirteen lanterns. The lock clicked more loudly and the iron frame swung open a few inches.

Sapphira quickly restored the lanterns to their original condition and entered the gate, closing it behind her, careful not to let the lock reengage. Still carrying her torch, she padded into the dungeon’s anteroom, a huge chamber with rocky walls all around and a high ceiling, reminding her of the caverns in the lower world. Except for the gate behind her, three wooden doors, much like the one at the top of the stairs, stood as the only way out.

It was at this point that Morgan’s sorcery and Mardon’s scientific wizardry always baffled her. Every time she came, the doors led to something different a pit that plunged into darkness; a winding path through a dismal, uninhabited tropical forest; an endless meadow with deep hoofprints as the only sign that anyone ever journeyed through the grassy expanse; and a deserted, rocky wasteland with a gorge that carried a flaming river at the bottom. Since her vision cleared as she approached a door, and sadness shrouded her mind, she knew the doors were portals to other dimensions that somehow stayed open for anyone to stumble through, perhaps to be lost forever.

Sapphira regripped her torch. It was time to choose a door, maybe for the last time. But why should the portal reveal anything new? Exploring the strange lands over and over had never turned up a soul, living or dead. Still, there was one place she hadn’t searched, the dark pit. Sapphira shivered. Falling into the unknown took more courage than she had to offer.

She reached for the door on the left and opened it, revealing the huge meadow. She sighed. Nothing new there, just dried horse dung fertilizing a million acres of grass. After closing that door, she strode ten paces to the right and opened the second. A rocky ledge overlooked a deep chasm and a lava river, much like the one in her cavern back home, but this one was outside under the sun and sky in a land that held nothing more than lava pots and squealing lizards, a place an imprisoned boy could never survive. Finally, she pulled open the third door, revealing a dark hole, the pit she had never dared to explore.

She dropped to all fours and peered into the hole. It reminded her of the abyss she and Paili had dangled over, but this one breathed no streams of light and had no gems lining its walls. Still, an odd wind seemed to try to suck her downward, whipping at her dress and coif as she leaned over the precipice.

She whispered to her torch. “Give as much light as you can.” As the fire blazed, she reached it into the hole, extending it to one side, then the other. Nothing. Just blackness as far as the eye could see.

Pulling up and resting on her knees, she looked back at the iron gate and the dark path home. She set her torch on the ground, allowing the fiery head to blaze over the pit. “I failed,” she muttered. “I said this was my last try, and there’s nothing new.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Elam’s probably long dead anyway, so what’s the use?”

A sudden gust caught the torch and nudged it off its perch. Sapphira lunged for it as it sailed into the hole, but her hands grasped empty air. The torch fell into the darkness, a shrinking light beaten about by changing crosswinds. And then it stopped. The tiny flame flickered steadily, yet far away.

Sapphira leaned her head into the hole. There was a bottom to this pit after all, but who could ever survive such a plunge? As she studied the distant light, a strange sound entered her ears, a rough, rumbling growl. She jerked her head up and spun around on her knees. Stalking toward her, a huge dog bared its teeth, a rainbow of colors shimmering across its body from the tips of its triangular ears to the end of its pointed tail.

Sapphira tried to stand, but her knees collapsed, and she fell to her seat. She pressed her hands against the floor and slid backwards, but with the pit only inches behind her, she couldn’t go much farther.

As the dog approached, taking one stalking step at a time, its growl deepened. The lanterns at the gate threw the beast’s shadow over her, yet with her vision crystal clear, she could see every pulsing capillary in its bloodshot eyes.

Sliding back another inch, she teetered on the edge of the pit. The image of Paili’s face flashed in her mind. Who would take care of her? Who would protect her when Morgan led her to the edge of the chasm? Would another innocent underborn suffer Acacia’s fate?

A sense of heat radiated against her thigh the Ovulum in her pocket, emanating a soothing warmth for the first time in centuries. That was all the answer she needed.

With a final push, Sapphira fell backwards into the pit.

Arthur and Edward stopped their horses at a low ridge overlooking the troops as they lined up only a stone’s throw away. The skies had darkened, and light rain dampened their heads. The king nodded at a scarlet-robed old man standing in front of the regiment. “It looks like we’re too late to ask Merlin about the sword,” Arthur said. “I will have to learn to use it in battle.”

As the rain grew heavier, Merlin paced in front of the soldiers, his hands behind him and his robe swishing. His powerful strides belied his wild, white hair and wrinkled face, and his resonating voice matched his vigor. “Men and dragons,” he shouted, “we are not here today to cross blades with men of equal stature. Though their men stand taller and their armor repels our sharpest arrows, though their numbers make them seem as thick as rats in a latrine, in the end, they are lesser men than we.”

A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and large raindrops plastered Merlin’s hair against his forehead. “As they have marched from village to village,” he continued, “these barbarians have murdered children and committed unspeakable acts against every female, from the very young to the very old. And they have attacked at night, cowardly spearing the fighting men in their slumber and rolling their severed heads into the middle of the streets, laughing as they committed their crimes against the women and children in the public squares, thinking the God of the universe could not see their abominations or will not lift up his iron fist and smash their vermin bodies with one mighty blow.”

Arthur’s men shook their fists and shouted. “Smash the vermin!” The dragons thumped their tails on the ground, plumes of smoke rising from their nostrils as they clawed the muddy path.

“You are better men than they,” Merlin continued, lifting his voice even higher. “You follow Arthur, the king who has given his life and rule to the greatest king of all, Christ, the Lord!”

The men shouted, “Christ, the Lord!” and began clanking their swords against their shields. The dragons remained silent, though they continued to paw the ground restlessly.

“Yes!” Merlin yelled. “With the word of God as your sword, and faith as your shield, you cannot fail!” As another loud clap of thunder echoed his shouts, Merlin stripped off his robe, revealing a suit of silver chain mail and a scabbard attached to a strap on his back. “So march!” He pulled a sword from the scabbard and lifted it high. “We will send these rats back to their latrine, and they will learn what it means to offend the heart of the living God!”

Merlin strode ahead on the path. The men followed him, waving their swords and shouting huzzahs. Barlow raised his new shield and marched side by side with the prophet. At the far end of the pack, Sir Devin walked alongside Palin, the king’s scribe. The two inclined their heads toward each other as if in conversation and drifted farther back in the lines.

The dragons lifted off the ground, two without riders, one reddish and one beige. Edward blew a shrill whistle through his fingers and waved his arm. “Thigocia!” he shouted. “Over here!”

The beige dragon circled back and grabbed Edward right off his horse with her tail. With a quick flip, she slung him into the air, then dove underneath and caught him on her back, wedging him perfectly between two spines. Edward grasped the spine in front of him and hung on, unable to breathe.

Arthur shouted into the sky through his cupped hands. “That’ll teach you to call for a dragon as you would a dog!”

Edward exhaled and shouted forward. “I apologize, dragoness. I am not aware of every aspect of dragon protocol.”

A sly grin broke through on Thigocia’s draconic lips. “Apology accepted, but it was necessary to give you an in-flight mounting lesson before the battle begins. Makaidos already gave Newman his.”

“Really? How did he do?”

“Except for a spine ripping the back of his trousers, he did quite well.”

As the troops marched closer to Weary Hill, the dragons rose toward the dark clouds, shielding themselves from sight in the swirling rain. Flying low enough to pierce the mists with their eyebeams, they guarded the right flank while staying out of sight.

Edward blinked at the sharp, stinging raindrops. “What do you see?” he shouted.

Thigocia aimed her beams at the ground. “Merlin and Barlow are charging. They must have spotted the enemy.”

Edward mopped his brow with his sleeve, but it didn’t help much. “Is anyone coming on the right? Do you sense anything at all?”

“No sign of them. The enemy seems concentrated on the direct attack.”

Edward pointed downward. “Then let’s help on the front lines!”

Thigocia turned off her eyebeams. “Makaidos? Did you hear the young knight?”

“Yes,” Makaidos replied. “You and I will join the battle, along with Legossi, Valcor, and Hartanna. Clefspeare will stay and guard the flank.” He swung his head back toward the riderless dragon. “Is that well with you?”

Clefspeare nodded. “I am at your service, my king.”

As the five dragons glided toward the lowest layer of clouds, Thigocia drifted closer to Hartanna. “You know Clefspeare better than I do. Can he handle the flank by himself?”

Hartanna’s ears twitched rapidly. “No one really knows him, Mother, but they say he is the greatest warrior since Arramos himself.”

“Why does he refuse a rider?”

“I asked him once,” Hartanna replied. “He says he works best alone, and with his dangerous maneuvers, he would prefer not to bring peril to a human.”

“I see,” Thigocia said, blinking away the droplets. “I have more questions, but that is enough information for now.”

Makaidos surged to the front of the line. “Form an arrowhead!”

The dragons fanned into formation, Makaidos at the tip and two dragons trailing him on each side.

Thigocia flew just behind her mate’s left wing, and Edward clutched her spine until his knuckles turned white. Chill bumps covered his arms, and his biceps twitched. The battle was about to begin.

Makaidos nodded at Hartanna’s rider, Dirk, a bearded man with his helmet pulled low on his wrinkled brow. “The command is yours, my good knight.”

Dirk raised his age-spotted hand. “Valcor!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Take the enemy on the left and thin their ranks. Makaidos, go for the center. Hartanna and I will blast the right. Legossi, run a torch on the back lines to prevent retreat. We will not let a single child killer escape. We will fly over the enemy in a continually cycling column, making sure that one or more of us faces their troops at all times, thereby guarding each other’s blind sides.”

Dirk stared directly at Edward and his dragon. “Thigocia, I have heard that you are a healer. Guard the king at all costs. Let him fight bravely, but if he is wounded, you must be there to heal him.”

“I have never healed a human,” Thigocia said, “but I will do what I can.”

“All dragons!” Dirk continued. “Listen to your riders! They know the wiles of men better than you do.”

Dirk lowered his hand and pointed toward the ground. Gradually pulling in their wings, the dragons angled downward, picking up speed with every second. Edward hung on to Thigocia’s spine, but seeing Dirk clenching both fists prompted him to let go.

The rushing wind and approaching shouts of battle pumped energy through Edward’s muscles. His heart beating wildly, he clenched his own fists, an unbidden battle cry bursting from his lips. As they dropped into a near vertical dive, he grasped the hilt of his sword.

While the other dragons dove toward their assigned positions, Thigocia headed straight for the battle line. Merlin and Barlow fought back to back, each man wielding his sword with perfect precision. Nearby, Arthur slashed Excalibur into a crowd of men. Each time the blade struck a shield, the silver edge seemed to flash and spark, slicing through metal and leather and cutting flesh and bone and leveling savage after savage.

Thigocia spewed a stream of bluish white fire, making a wide semicircle around the king. Dozens of enemy soldiers erupted in flames, flailing their arms as they tried to run for safety. With rain continuing to beat down, steam rose from every burning soldier, and a stiff breeze blew the vapor throughout their ranks, creating a foggy quagmire as their feet slogged through the mud. A fifth of the enemy troops stampeded back, scrambling over the slippery terrain, but they ran right into a wall of fire ignited by Legossi and the other dragons.

Edward patted Thigocia’s neck. “Well done!” he shouted. “This will be easy!”

“Too easy. I sense grave danger. Something sinister is afoot.” Thigocia landed in the space she had cleared and slapped two of the remaining savages with her tail, sending them flying. With her eyes flashing, she stormed in front of the king, her wings fully stretched as she spewed fire in a long arc toward the enemy’s retreating lines.

Arthur thrust Excalibur’s blade through a soldier’s shield and into his chest, then pulled it out. The bloodstained blade glowed, and as he raised it high, the barbarian’s blood sizzled and burned away. Arthur lowered the sword and gazed at it in wonder. “Merlin!” he called. “Do you know anything about this weapon?”

Merlin ran to the king’s side and grasped his wrist. “This is Chereb!” he exclaimed. “The sword of Eden!”

Arthur turned the hilt, showing the prophet the other side of the blade. “The Lady of the Lake named it Excalibur, and it seems to breathe fire when I call upon its energy, like a dragon made of polished steel.”

Thigocia extended her neck toward the king. “Your Majesty! Something wicked is coming, a horrible disaster looming in my mind like the rising of the devil himself!”

Arthur waved his hand toward the retreating troops as they burned in the dragons’ fire. “But we are winning handily! Your winged wonders are cleaning up every last savage.”

Merlin pointed his sword at the boiling sky. “Three dragons!” he shouted.

Edward looked up and spotted two red males and a smaller tawny female diving toward them. “More help?” he asked.

“No!” Thigocia yanked Edward off her back with her tail and dropped him next to Merlin and the king. Stretching her wings, she wrapped all three into a tight huddle and ducked her own head underneath. A wall of flames screamed past them, and the sound of beating wings whipped by, followed by a stiff breeze.

Thigocia lifted her wings and jumped into the air. “It’s Arramos! And he has Goliath and Roxil with him!” She circled over the trio of humans, shooting balls of flame at the huge red dragon as he glided high above. Goliath and Roxil beat their wings in sync with Arramos, one on each side, and easily dodged Thigocia’s volleys. They flew in a wide circle, Arramos taking the lead as they began to form an attack arrow.

Sir Devin rushed toward the king, Palin running at his side. Both men raised their swords. “The dragons have deceived us!” Devin shouted. “They have concocted this plan to expose us and kill us all!”

“Nonsense!” Arthur said. “They have destroyed our enemies.”

Devin pointed at the charred bodies in the battlefield. “They don’t care what colors a human victim wears as long as they end up in black shrouds!”

Thigocia landed and trumpeted a loud note. “Arramos is not here to kill humans,” she shouted, “he is trying to draw Makaidos into battle.”

“If that’s true,” Devin said, “then why doesn’t Makaidos respond?”

White-hot sparks flew from Thigocia’s nostrils. “Because he is busy making sure your worthless backside remains intact!”

Arramos and company angled toward them, picking up speed with every second. Thigocia sent a warning fireball that splashed off Arramos’s neck but did nothing to alter his course.

“Everyone under my wings again!” Thigocia shouted, but before they could duck for cover, another red dragon zoomed into view.

Edward thrust his finger upward. “It’s Clefspeare!”

Clefspeare smashed into Arramos, chest to chest, sending the elder dragon tumbling through the air. As Clefspeare passed by the other two attackers, he snaked his tail around Goliath’s neck, then, taking a sharp turn, slung his body right into Roxil, collapsing her wings. Both dragons crash-landed in a deserted portion of the battlefield but scrambled quickly to their haunches, shaking off the mud as they made ready to fly again.

Merlin held up his closed fist. “Clefspeare!” he shouted. “I have dragon’s bane. Keep Arramos away, and I will fend off the other two.”

Without a word, Clefspeare flew in the direction he had thrown Arramos. The fierce red dragon had righted himself and was heading back toward the king. Clefspeare, his claws extended and teeth bared, crashed into Arramos again. Both dragons fell toward the ground, biting and slashing each other. At the last second, Clefspeare fanned his wings, threw Arramos into the mud, and, with a mighty flap, ascended again. Making a sharp, one-eighty turn, he dove toward his fallen opponent, shooting a blinding torrent of flames, but Arramos leaped to the side and launched into the air. He zoomed away with Clefspeare in pursuit, and the two faded into the rainy backdrop.

Goliath, now skimming the clouds again with Roxil, swooped toward the king and smacked into Thigocia, knocking her to the ground. Roxil followed with a stream of flames, but King Arthur blocked it with his shield just before the torrent could slam into his face.

Merlin held up his fist, opening his fingers slightly. Goliath and Roxil faltered, their wings out of sync. As they flew away, they alternately rose and dipped in the gusty winds. Merlin closed his fingers again.

Thigocia pushed her wings against the mud and righted herself. “I saw a new horde of Saxons swarming on the hill! They are coming this way!”

Arthur shouted, “Make your defenses!” The king’s soldiers formed a wall of sword-wielding men and a cadre of bowmen behind them, their arrows bending their strings.

“Edward!” Thigocia shouted, lowering her head. “Mount! We will thin their ranks!”

As Edward climbed into position, Sir Devin stalked toward them and raised his sword. “This is more dragon treachery! The barbarians waited for their dragon allies to join them before they brought their second wave.”

Merlin leaped in front of Devin and blocked the knight’s thrust with his own sword. “Don’t be a fool!” Merlin grunted as he pushed against the crossed blades. “Thigocia is no friend of Goliath or Roxil. She was a victim of their attack!”

“You fell for their ploy!” Devin growled. “She spawned the scaly beasts! They wouldn’t kill their own mother!”

King Arthur lifted the flashing Excalibur high. “Devin! I command you to desist!”

Devin scowled at the king and backed away from Merlin, muttering something unintelligible.

Barlow’s voice rose above the clattering rain. “Bowmen! Pierce those devils!” A hundred arrows shot into the downpour. Edward raised his sword and stretched to see over the wall of men. The savages were closing in, some dropping into the mud as arrows rained on their advance. Shifting his gaze to the sky, he counted three dragons sweeping the enemy with waves of fire, but he couldn’t tell who they were.

Thunder boomed overhead. Rain pounded even harder. Suddenly, a spear flew in, striking Edward in the chest. He fell off Thigocia’s back, but she caught him in her wing and laid him gently on the ground. As he writhed in the mud, a wave of barbarians slammed into the front lines. Arthur, Merlin, Devin, and Palin charged into the fray, Excalibur flashing in the king’s grip.

Stretching her wings, Thigocia created a shield over Edward. He grimaced at her, pain crushing his words. “Break . . . break the spear. I must . . . fight.”

“You cannot survive this wound,” Thigocia said. “It has likely pierced your lungs.”

Edward felt blood seeping into his throat. “Let me die . . . fighting . . . not wallowing in the mud.” He struggled to his knees, feeling for the spear at his back.

“The point protrudes several inches.” Thigocia laid her tail on his shoulder. “Stay as still as you can.”

With Edward holding the front end, Thigocia chomped the shaft near the point and broke it into splinters.

Edward clenched his teeth. “Now break the other end.”

Thigocia clamped her jaws around the shaft, but as she crunched the wood, Edward collapsed to the mud, faceup. The spear broke somewhere inside his body and part of it jerked out. Blood flowed freely from his chest. He arched his back, and his arms and legs stiffened.

Thigocia wrapped her wings around him and pulled him to his feet. “Battle or no battle, I will not let you die in the mud. I can try to heal you, but you have been mortally wounded. First, I have to find a dragon to breathe fire on me.”

Edward stuck his head through a gap in the dragon’s wings, but darkness shrouded the battlefield. Everything moved slowly, like a somber dance in a house of mourning. As King Arthur’s sword swept from side to side, one barbarian after another fell to his blows. Suddenly, the blade flashed with radiance as if struck by a bolt of lightning, but instead of knocking the king flat, the bolt seemed to penetrate his body, lighting him as bright as the sun itself. A brilliant beam shot out of Excalibur’s tip, and as Arthur staggered backwards, he lowered the sword. The beam slashed the ground, sending a streak of lightning along the muddy field. The glittering streak shot into Thigocia, creating a shimmering white halo all around her.

A sizzling sensation burned into Edward’s skin. Everything in his vision flashed so brightly, he couldn’t see at all. Blistering heat surged into his lungs, making them feel on fire. Seconds later, the light flickered off. His pain vanished.

Fighting against the dragon’s leathery wings, he bounded through the opening, then laid his palm on his chest and took a deep breath. Blood dampened his fingers, but not even a twinge of pain hampered his lungs. Even the shaft of the spear had disintegrated. He grabbed his sword and gazed at Thigocia. “What happened?”

“I have no idea.” Thigocia lowered her head and sniffed the hole in his vest. “A miracle?”

“I’ll have to accept that. No time for guessing.”

Edward saluted her and rushed into the battle. As he raised his shield, he heard the dragon call from behind him, “Praise the Maker!” An arrow thumped into his shield, then another. He glanced back at Thigocia and nodded. She nodded in return.

The king swung Excalibur’s beam back into the horde. The savages in its path disappeared as if disintegrated by its energy. Arthur swept the enemy’s lines. Dozens of men blew apart in splashes of sparks, their swords, shields, and helmets falling to the spots where they once stood. The Saxons began fleeing once again, many slipping and falling under the tide of trampling feet. Arthur drew the sword back, and the beam disappeared.

Goliath plummeted from the sky. Makaidos zoomed behind him, snapping at his tail. With his wings stretching wide, Goliath leveled his flight near the ground and reached down with expanded claws, seizing Arthur’s clothes and jerking him upward. As the king rose into the air, his shield went flying and Excalibur fell to the ground. Arthur’s bowmen turned their aim toward the sky, keeping their arrows drawn back as they awaited orders.

Scattering water droplets from his wings, Makaidos landed next to Merlin, breathless. “Do not think . . . for a moment . . . that Goliath fears killing the king. We must . . . take great care.” The other dragons, Hartanna, Valcor, and Legossi, settled in next to their king. Clefspeare, however, was still nowhere in sight.

Goliath landed in a nearby patch of grass and threw Arthur against a large stone. Trumpeting a great roar, he planted his claws on the king’s limp body and shouted at the soldiers, “Are you willing to bargain in order to rescue the human king? He is alive, but if you refuse to make a deal with me, he will be dead before sundown.”

Roxil landed close to Goliath, but he pushed her away with his tail.

Merlin reached for Excalibur. The moment he snatched it up, the beam returned to the blade and shot into the sky. He angled the light toward Goliath, but when the dragon raised his claws to strike the king, Merlin pulled it back. “With Arthur in his clutches,” he said, “I dare not strike the dragon.”

Sir Devin drew his sword. “I will give that demon an answer he will never forget!”

Merlin pressed his forearm against Devin’s chest, stopping him. He then stepped to the front of the group and faced Goliath. “What would a rebellious dragon want from the two-legged creatures he despises?”

Goliath spewed a stream of fire into the air and let the sparks sizzle for a moment as they fell to the grass. He laughed and stretched out his reply in a low drone. “War.”

“Between humans and dragons?” Merlin asked.

“You catch on quickly for a human, but I do not make agreements with the lying sons of Noah. I am addressing the dragons, those who follow the so-called king of the dragons. I want them to break their alliance with the humans, so that I and my followers can freely wage war against the stupid bipeds. If they give me their word, that will be all I need.”

Makaidos snorted a spray of smoke through his nostrils. “Don’t give in to the demons within you, my son. They have sung lies to you, and they will bring you to destruction.”

Goliath spat a ball of sparks onto the ground. “When you chose the love of humans over that of your own kind, I ceased being your son.” He spread a wing over Roxil’s back. “And your daughter agrees with me.”

Makaidos whipped his tail down, splashing mud all around. “Roxil, was rebelling against me and birthing a youngling with this beast not enough for you? Will you now fight humans with him?”

Roxil turned her gaze toward Goliath. “We are not merely allies in war. We are mates for life.”

“Enough idle chatter!” Goliath roared. He clutched the chain mail on Arthur’s chest and lifted him into the air. “What is your answer, O King of the Dragons?”

Makaidos turned toward Merlin, his eyes flaming red. “I am too angry to think. Do you have counsel?”

Merlin spoke in a low tone. “We must protect the king. Tell him you’ll break the alliance. A falsehood to save an innocent life is not a sin.”

“You do not understand,” Makaidos said. “I cannot utter words I know to be false. Goliath knows this.”

Merlin lowered his head and folded his hands over Excalibur’s hilt. “Then do whatever you must, but I advise that you make no covenant with one who uses threats of murder to gain an advantage.”

Makaidos bowed to Merlin. “I understand, but Goliath is not bluffing. I must prevent him from killing the king.” As he turned back toward Goliath, he lifted his head high. “We will break our alliance. I will no longer fight alongside the human race.”

Goliath’s toothy grin spread wide across his snout. “Very well. Meet me at your cave within the hour, and I will turn the human king over to you. Come alone.”

Goliath flew into the air, Arthur’s body dangling in his claws. Roxil followed, glancing back at Makaidos before turning her gaze to the skies.

Makaidos bowed to Merlin. “I regret this course I had to take, but I do not regret our long friendship. I only promised to refrain from fighting alongside you, not from being your friend. I will not forget what you have taught me over the years, how you became my mentor after Joseph died. You have given me hope for the future.”

Merlin laid a hand on Makaidos’s neck. “It is an honor to be your friend, noble king. As far as I know, you are the only dragon who truly understands the path we all must take. I look forward to seeing your influence spread from one dragon mind to another, for even dragons must be enlightened by the truth.”

“Well spoken, Merlin.” The dragon nuzzled the old man’s cheek. “I will deliver your king to his throne, but, with a dangerous war looming, I cannot say when we will meet again. Farewell.”

Makaidos turned to the other dragons. “You have performed admirably and defeated the enemy, but your mission is now over. Go to your caves and await my instructions. Although we will no longer battle alongside the humans, we still have a war to wage. When I return, we will plan our strategy to bring Goliath and his followers back to their senses.”

Thigocia shuffled close to Makaidos. “Will you return to me safely, my love?”

Makaidos’s eyes flashed. “Are you suggesting that my own son and daughter would try to harm me?”

“Roxil? She did not attack me directly, so we cannot predict her intent, but Goliath frightens me. His eyes burn with the same evil that inflamed the hearts of the Nephilim.”

“I understand. But if a son I raised is willing to obey the demons within him, even if they command him to kill his own father, then perhaps I deserve to die.”

Thigocia swung her head around and scanned the dozens of sets of human eyes watching them. “I will not respond to that in public. Just return to me, and we will fight together to win their hearts back.”

“You have spoken well,” Makaidos said. “Do you know the proper steps to take in naming a new dragon king?”

“I do, but I will not entertain a faithless option. Just come back to me safely.”

Makaidos sighed. “You are right. I will come back to you. Just see to it that none of these loyal dragons tries to follow me to our cave. Let us meet again back at the castle hill, though I cannot be sure when I will arrive.” He reared to his haunches and leaped into the air, his wings unfurling in the same motion. “I will not break my word,” he called, swinging his head back around. Seconds later, he was gone.

The other dragons beat their wings and rose into the sky Legossi, Hartanna, Valcor, and last of all, Thigocia, each one sailing off in a different direction through the dark, stormy skies.

Devin growled through his grinding teeth. “Makaidos doesn’t fool me. He is in league with his son. They will form an alliance and plot the destruction of us all.”

“Ridiculous,” Merlin said, keeping Excalibur at the ready in front of his belt. “Makaidos said our friendship is intact, and a dragon never lies.”

“Perhaps we should all trust in the words of murderers, old man.” Devin lifted his sword. “But when it comes to protecting the king and his rule, I will trust in the edge of a blade.” He slid his sword back into its scabbard and waved toward Palin. “Come with me. I will want a witness to record what happens.”

Palin withdrew a parchment book and stylus from his saddlebag. “Yes, my liege.”

Devin raised his shield, covering his chest. “We will make sure the king comes back alive.”

“No!” Merlin shouted. “Makaidos was supposed to go alone. Your presence will surely inflame the dragons’ parley.”

“I care only for the king!” Devin turned and sprinted away. Splashing through the mud, he and Palin ran up a slope that led into a sparse forest where they had tied their horses.

As their forms blended into the trees, Edward joined Merlin at his side. “If you please, Master Merlin, may I offer a suggestion?”

Merlin kept his gaze fixed on the clouds. “You may.”

Edward stepped in front of the old prophet and cleared his throat. “As you might know,” he said, watching Merlin’s eyes dart from side to side, “I don’t trust any of the dragons, and I trust Sir Devin even less. It seems to me that a human loyal to the king should attend to this matter and make sure he is brought home safely.”

“You are exactly right,” Merlin replied, still gazing at the sky. “I am working on that already.”

“You are?” Edward looked up at the empty gray skies. “How?”

“Through a prayer passed down to me by Noah the patriarch, a prayer for the assistance of a dragon.”

“But the dragons have departed, and Makaidos ordered them not to help us.”

“True, but there is one dragon who did not hear Makaidos’s command. I would trust him with my life.”

“I assume you mean Clefspeare.”

“Yes.” Merlin slid Excalibur into his back scabbard. “You saw him in battle against Goliath and Arramos. Is there any doubt about the heart of such a warrior?”

“He certainly convinced me. His fierceness could not have been an act.”

“Indeed.” Merlin gripped Edward’s forearm. “I will ride Clefspeare to Makaidos’s cave, and I will see if this deal between dragons is kept.”

“Shall I go with you? Another witness could be valuable against the likes of Devin and Palin.”

“I doubt that he would let you ride him, but even if he would, I need you to do something for me.” Merlin pressed the candlestone into Edward’s palm. “Take this gem to my quarters. Clefspeare might not be able to fly if I have it in my possession.”

Edward gazed at the stone and tensed his brow. “Begging your pardon, good prophet, but I believe my abilities can be used more efficiently. I am a warrior, not a trinket courier.”

Merlin released his grasp. “If you would stop obsessing over your honor, young man, you would easily discover what you have been commissioned to learn.”

“Commissioned?” Edward chuckled nervously. “What are you talking about?”

“There is no need to pretend. I have already discerned how the king is using you as his surreptitious eyes and ears, and I am troubled by your dual purposes.”

“I have no dual purposes.” Edward closed his fingers tightly around the candlestone. “I am bound to serve His Majesty, and none other.”

“If that’s true,” Merlin said, pointing at Edward’s fist, “then do what I say and leave the controversy surrounding the dragons to me. I understand them far better than you do, and I have a plan to save them and Arthur. For the sake of the kingdom, stand down from this spying mission.”

Edward tightened his jaw, etching his words with anger. “I will take the gem to your quarters, as you have requested, but you do not have the authority to countermand the king’s orders. No one has more authority than the king.”

Merlin sighed. “And that is where you lose your way.” As the flurry of Clefspeare’s wings sent gusts across their faces, Merlin gripped Edward’s wrist again. “Don’t make rash decisions while the world is dark. Wait for the light to make all things clear.”

Edward didn’t answer. He just glared at Merlin, every muscle in his face as taut as a bowstring.

Merlin climbed aboard Clefspeare and shouted. “To Makaidos’s cave, my friend! And hurry!”