Eye of the Oracle

chapter 4

RAISING DRAGONS

As Makaidos flew toward the entrance of his cave, danger scraped his senses. Goliath’s brooding anger rose from the ground like the odor of a steaming tar pit, a heavy, simmering wrath that longed to lash out and destroy. Yet, the anger seemed to restrain itself, as if waiting for an opportune time to strike. Ever since the spirits of the Nephilim stole Goliath’s mind, he had become perverted, bestial. He seemed anxious to kill anything that stood against his plan to rule the dragon kingdom. But what of Roxil? She seemed possessed by a misguided idealism, not a warped spirit.

Makaidos landed and faced the dark cave. His eldest son waited inside, and perhaps his eldest daughter as well. Was there still hope? Could they be rescued from their respective demons? Maybe. He had one last idea to try.

He folded his wings and ducked inside the cave’s low entryway, turning on his eyebeams as he glanced around the inner chamber. Goliath sat next to the wall, Roxil at his side and King Arthur lying at his feet, motionless.

Makaidos focused the beams directly on Goliath’s eyes. “You could not battle me yourself, my son? You had to bring your sister to help?”

Goliath blinked and lowered his head below the beams. “I will not harm you. I am here to keep my word.” He rolled the king face up. “Arthur is alive but unconscious.”

“I see. An unconscious king cannot bear witness to your crime.” Makaidos reared up, exposing the most vulnerable part of his underbelly. “I have trained Roxil well, so the two of you should be enough to do the deed. I will not resist.”

“Father!” Roxil slapped her tail against the wall of the cave. “Are you implying that I will help Goliath kill you? Have you no faith in me at all?”

“Faith in you?” Makaidos narrowed his eyes. “Did you and Goliath pass through a covenant veil?”

“You know we didn’t.” Roxil swung her head to the side. “Arramos joined us together. The ways of the covenant veil are the ways of the past.”

“Then you have answered your own question.” Makaidos lowered himself to all fours again. “Your unholy alliance with a demon-possessed mate has incinerated my faith in you. Since Goliath is against me, and you stand with him, you are against me as well.”

Goliath raised a wing and draped it over Roxil. “We are not going to kill you. Roxil insisted on coming to ensure my safety from outside interference and from you. As old as you are, I still doubt that I could defeat you in single combat. Only Clefspeare is your equal in battle.”

“Now I am sure it is a Naphil who speaks,” Makaidos said, “for you know that my age has weakened my skills. In order to fool your mate into coming, you have chosen to lie, and lying is the fruit of the dragon prototype. His Eden curse made him a legless and wingless serpent, and I thought that ended all dragon deception forever. Obviously, I was wrong.”

Roxil slapped the wall again. “How can you possibly believe what you are saying about Goliath? Our war is against the human race, not each other!”

“I believe what I am saying because I sense danger. If Goliath intends no harm, then where does the danger originate?”

Roxil’s eyebeams flicked on and pointed toward the cave entrance. “I have also sensed danger ever since I arrived. A human must be near, probably someone who intends to rescue his king.”

Makaidos’s beams crossed over Roxil’s, creating a diamond outlined in scarlet. “I should feel no danger from any human who would rescue his king. I helped save them all from the barbarians.”

“They merely used you.” Roxil doused her beams. “They will turn on you whenever it is convenient.”

Makaidos rubbed a foreleg against his tender underside. “Humans have had convenient opportunities to strike a blow for many years, even centuries from my days of weakness in the ark, to the nights I have slept at Merlin’s side in the wilderness as he taught me the ways of his messiah, the ways of love, grace, and mercy.” He flashed his eyebeams at Roxil. “Once again you have acted rashly because you know so little, yet think you know so much.”

Makaidos bowed toward Goliath. “You have captured her heart, my son. Congratulations. She has forsaken all reason and will believe you no matter what you say or do.” He spread out his wings, exposing his underbelly again. “Now, do what you must. Dying in your fire is better than living under your rule, especially when you have stolen the heart of my precious daughter. Following in the footsteps of the human messiah, I will not resist. I give my life gladly, hoping that Roxil will finally see the difference between a loving father and a deceiving usurper.”

“Father!” Roxil growled. “Listen to yourself! Do not play the fool to win me back to your home! I stand with my mate, no matter what outrageous grandstanding you do.”

Goliath snorted. “You will not die at my hand.” He turned his beams toward the back of the cave. Two men leaped from the darkness. Devin plunged a sword into Makaidos’s belly, and Palin thrust his into Roxil’s. Both men twisted their swords, then sprang away, dodging the dragons’ gushing fluids.

Roxil teetered. Her eyes widened. First glancing at Goliath, then at Makaidos, she toppled forward. Makaidos fell at her side, pressing his scaly jaws against hers.

As his vision faded, Makaidos watched Goliath. He tried to speak, but he felt his life seeping away.

Goliath pushed Arthur’s unconscious body. “Take your king, Devin, and be on your way. Tell Morgan that our deal is complete. I will make no more contracts with her.”

“As you wish.” Devin helped Palin hoist Arthur over his back, and they shuffled out of the cave.

As Makaidos closed his eyes, Roxil’s faint voice crept into his ear. “Why, Goliath? Why?”

Goliath laughed. “As our father said. No witnesses. You refused to allow the Nephilim to enter your mind, so you could not be trusted.”

Darkness shrouded Makaidos’s vision. As he sighed his last breath, his daughter spoke again, her voice failing. “Father. . . . I am so . . . so . . .” She exhaled and breathed no more.

Makaidos pushed his wing over her body, then darkness washed over his mind.

Sapphira plunged headfirst through the dark, cold air in the mysterious pit, keeping the torch at the bottom firmly set in her sights. She felt no fear. The warmth from the Ovulum seemed to radiate courage into her heart.

As the torch drew closer, the darkness melted, turning the night skies into the fullness of day. Her descent slowed, and her body turned upright, as if someone had pushed an invisible hand underneath her. Finally, she landed next to her torch, both feet thudding against a hard surface, jarring her spine. Her momentum threw her into a roll, but when she came to a stop, she quickly leaped to her feet and hurried back to her landing point.

She picked up the torch and whispered to the flame. “No need for you, now.”

Setting a hand on her hip, she turned from side to side. With a dry fountain to her left and the smashed remains of crates and marketplace carts to her right, this village seemed very familiar ruined, but familiar. In her mind’s eye, she painted in the missing pieces, reassembling the market and filling the fountain with gushing water. She added people, young and old, men and women in colorful clothes

Sapphira snapped her fingers. That was it! This is Shinar! She spun around and gazed at a low rise, looking for the tower, but there was nothing at the top, just a huge gap. She scurried to the crest and peered across the empty expanse. Obviously this was where the tower stood before the museum dropped through the portal.

As she walked toward the center of the tower mound, a sense of grief grew so strong she couldn’t bear to continue. Memories of Acacia again flashed into her mind her frightened eyes, her terrified scream.

Sapphira hustled back to the edge of the crest and looked out over the city. The familiar idols and remnants of the tar pits dotted the landscape. Yet, not a soul stirred anywhere. Setting one hand on her hip again, she scratched her head with the butt end of her torch. How could this be? How could Shinar get physically moved from its place so many centuries ago and show up here? Wherever here was.

As she searched for signs of life, the sun stung her eyes, but she caught a glimpse of a shadow, a human shadow, moving far down the vacant street, back where the laborers used to pile bricks from the kilns. Pulling down her veil, she ran toward a gap between two idols. The stacked stone faces that had once collected votive gifts of flowers and jewels now presided over a broken marble floor with only crushed rocks and mud to appease the goddesses.

Now back at the street level, Sapphira trotted, trying to fix her gaze on the spot she had noticed movement, but her veil flapped against her face, obstructing her vision. As she slowed to furtive tiptoeing, she straightened the veil. Whatever made that shadow had to be around somewhere. But where?

She kicked a pile of crushed rocks, scattering dust around her ankles. The high portico that had once covered the brick-making area had collapsed. Broken beams and marble lay in heaps on the dirt floor. The kilns were now punched through on every side, as though an army of invaders had marched in and ruined everything in sight. Red and gray bricks lay strewn and broken, some pieces thrown as far away as the opposite side of the dirt street. With her courage still flowing, she called out, “Is anyone here?”

A gentle breeze brushed her ears, but nothing else. “Is anyone here?” she called again.

This time, a sharp voice replied. “Who are you?”

Sapphira took a step back. Should she answer? What if this person knew Morgan? Could she risk letting him know her name? She cleared her throat and spoke in her sweetest tone. “I am a lost traveler from another land. Is there anyone here who can help me find my way?”

A head bobbed up from behind one of the kilns, a young male with ragged brown hair. When he caught sight of her, his eyes widened. “Are you a girl?”

Sapphira glanced down at her body and straightened her frumpy dress. “Isn’t it obvious?”

The boy stepped out from behind the kiln. “I guess so. I haven’t seen very many. Only grown women, really. No one as young as you.”

Sapphira untied her coif and pulled it off, letting her hair tumble down. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she walked closer. The boy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes seemed glazed.

She looked down at her dress again. “Is something wrong?”

He swallowed and retied a leather sash at the front of his dirty gray tunic. “No. It’s just that . . . Do all girls have white hair and shining blue eyes like yours?”

She swept a handful of hair over the front of her shoulder. “No. Only one other that I know of, but she’s dead.” Taking three more steps, she closed the gap between them and stood within arm’s reach. “Your voice is familiar . . .”

“So is yours.”

She whispered, “Elam?”

A broad smile crossed the boy’s face. “Mara?”

Sapphira laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes! I’m Mara!” She hoped Elam would return the embrace, but his body stiffened, feeling cold and hard. She laid her hands on his shoulders and pulled back. “I mean, I’m not Mara anymore. My name’s Sapphira now, but I’m the girl from the below lands.”

He pulled back farther, letting Sapphira’s hands slip away. “That’s impossible,” he said, squinting at her. “How could you still be alive after all these years?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

He picked up half a brick, his grip tight and his bicep flexed. “How do I know you’re not just another one of Morgan’s tricks to get me to do what she wants? You might be an imposter.”

“If you remember Morgan,” she said, wiggling her fingers in front of him, “I’m sure you’ll remember licking stew off of these.”

“I remember.” His ears turned red, and he dropped the brick. “No one else would know about that.”

“Speaking of stew . . .” She swiveled her head from side to side. “Where do you find food in this place?”

“I never looked for food. I haven’t eaten anything for years.”

“Years?” she repeated. “How is that possible?”

Elam shrugged his shoulders. “I never get hungry.”

“Never? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Elam scraped his sandal along the ground. “Remember that tree Morgan has?”

“Uh-huh. Is that where you got that blossom you gave me?”

“Yes. I ate some of the fruit, the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and I haven’t been hungry since.”

Sapphira sighed. “The blossom never faded. I’ve been hiding it under Paili’s bed for centuries.”

“Paili’s alive, too? I’m glad to hear that. She’s a real nice girl from what I could tell.”

“She is, and keeping her out of Morgan’s clutches is worth all the trouble.” She turned slowly in a circle. “So, what is this place?”

“It might not be the truth, but Morgan explained everything to me.” He spread out his arms. “This whole place is the sixth circle of Sheol Hades, I guess they call it now. There used to be lots of people here, dead souls who waited for the Messiah to come and take them to heaven.”

Sapphira kicked a broken brick, scattering more dust across the empty path. “So I guess this messiah came, then.”

“Looks that way. My grandfather told me he was coming someday. Whoever he is, Morgan hates him with a passion. She says the Messiah was vindictive and left behind a lot of souls, but they’re in other circles.”

Elam suddenly covered his ears with his hands and grimaced.

“What’s wrong?” Sapphira asked.

He turned and doubled over. “Just stay away for a minute.”

Sapphira edged toward him, reaching out her hand, but she stopped and pulled back. “Can I do anything to help?”

Breathing heavily, Elam groaned. “Just shut up and leave me alone!”

Sapphira tightened her fingers around her torch, then, as tears formed in her eyes, her fingers loosened again. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll go.”

Elam spun around and held up his hand. “No! I didn’t mean you!” His eyes darkened and rolled wildly.

Sapphira waved her torch in a wide arc. “There’s no one else here!”

Elam covered his ears again. “I hear a voice, a singing voice. It’s beautiful, but the words . . .” He clutched his vest and wrenched it in his fist. “The words stab my heart and make it bleed. I can’t stand it!”

Sapphira laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. “What does it say?”

Elam pulled away and staggered into the street. He stooped, resting on his haunches with his arms draped over his knees, breathless. “Never . . . never mind. It’s gone now.” He flopped down on his backside and gave her a weak smile. A glimmer slowly returned to his eyes.

Sapphira sat down next to him, her own breaths pumping in time with his. “If you tell me the words, maybe I can help you figure out how to battle it.”

He shook his head and averted his eyes. “I’d really rather not.”

Sapphira shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself.” But she didn’t really mean it. Whatever that song was, it must have been pure poison, and it didn’t seem right to let her friend battle it alone.

Elam nodded toward the spot where Sapphira had landed. “Morgan sometimes shows up over there, just like you did, but she glides down in the form of a raven. I guess she likes checking up on her prisoner once in a while. Not that she needs to, since there’s no way to escape. No matter how far you walk or which direction you go, you always end up back here.” He flicked his head toward the sky. “Now if you can teach me how to fly like you did, maybe I can get out of here after all.”

“I’m not sure how I did that,” Sapphira said, tapping her torch on the street, “but I have another idea that might work.”

Elam leaped to his feet. “I just saw someone. A man.” He grabbed Sapphira’s elbow and pulled her up, keeping his body in front of her.

Sapphira laid her hands on Elam’s shoulders and peeked around his head. “I see him, and a woman, too. They’re coming this way.”

As the pair walked slowly along the path toward the brick kilns, Elam’s voice lowered to a whisper. “They’re walking hand in hand. That’s a good sign.”

“Good enough for me.” With her torch on her shoulder, Sapphira strode right up to the pair. “Do you two live here?” she asked.

The couple, a middle-aged man and a woman in her thirties, kept walking. Sapphira had to jump out of the way to keep from being bowled over. She ran in front of them again, walking backwards as she spoke. “I was just wondering if you knew anything about this place. Is there a way out or any food anywhere?”

The pair ignored her. They both looked around wide-eyed, as if they were lost or dumbstruck.

Sapphira jumped out of the way again and followed them, scratching her head. Elam joined her. “Maybe they speak another language,” he offered.

“I could try another language, but they act like I’m not even here, like they can’t see me at all.” She sidled up to the man and tapped him on the shoulder, raising her voice. “Hello! Do you understand what I’m saying?” No response. Not even a glance. Sapphira pulled on his elbow. Again, no response. Finally, she leaped in front of him and held up both hands, but he bumped into her, knocking her flat on her back, and stepped right on her stomach. He paused for a moment, said something inaudible to the woman, then kept going.

Elam jumped to her side and helped her sit upright. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sapphira laid a hand on her stomach. “I don’t get it. He didn’t weigh much at all.”

Elam pulled her to her feet. “Think they’re ghosts?”

“I doubt it. I felt his elbow when I pulled on it, and he knocked me over.” She picked up her torch and stared at the strolling pair. With all the crazy pits and portals in this place, maybe they were in another dimension. She pressed her lips together and hummed, “I wonder . . .”

“Wonder what?”

Twirling the torch in her palm, she watched the couple round a bend and disappear from sight. “I wonder if there’s another way to communicate with them, maybe in a different place.”

“A different place? But they’re right here.”

She looped her arm around his elbow. “Come on. I’ll show you.” With Elam hustling to keep up, she ran back to the rise where the tower had stood and marched straight toward the center. As she looked out over the city with her enhanced vision, she could see the couple back at the kilns, now with more detail than before. Worry lines etched the woman’s brow and cheeks, making her look older somehow, much older. The man pointed at various objects, as though he were explaining them to the woman. His face seemed friendly and wise, but his cheeks were also etched with a criss-crossing pattern that looked more like scales than skin.

As she stood in the midst of the portal, the image of the fiery chasm flashed in her mind, this time with Paili’s body falling into the magma river.

She clenched her teeth and yanked Elam close to her side. “No!” she shouted. “Not Paili!”

“Where?” Elam swiveled his head. “What’s wrong with Paili?”

Sapphira gripped his shoulders. “She’s in trouble! I’ve been gone too long, and Morgan’s getting rid of her.”

“How can you possibly know what Morgan’s doing?”

“Never mind!” She raised her torch. “Flames! Now!” Instantly, a crackling flame burst forth at its tip.

Elam jumped back. “How did you do that?”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him close again. “No time to explain. Just brace yourself.” She draped her arm around his shoulders and gripped him tightly. “Stay close, or you’ll be in big trouble.”

Moving her torch hand in a smooth orbit, Sapphira drew a blazing circle in the air. “I don’t know where this portal will take us,” she said, her body trembling, “but I have to try to get home.” As she widened the circle, the fire began to slide down around them, creating a cocoon of flames that swirled around their heads and hissed in their ears. The heat massaged her skin, warm enough to break a sweat.

Beads of perspiration appeared on Elam’s face, reflecting the torch’s flickering orange flame. A gaping smile broke through as he whispered, “Amazing!”

“Okay,” she said, “don’t let it scare you, but this is where it really gets weird.”

Suddenly, the flaming wall collapsed inward around their feet, but instead of incinerating them, the fire began transforming their bodies into particles of light, inching its way up their legs and then their torsos. The process created a loud buzzing that drowned out the hissing flames.

“When it gets to our heads,” Sapphira called, “you can keep your eyes open. It won’t hurt.”

As the flames crawled over their faces, Elam shouted, “I love it!” Seconds later, the entire cocoon exploded into millions of pieces and scattered into nothingness. As the sparks died away, new heat stung her back, as though hundreds of tiny needles pricked her skin.

Elam spoke, his voice now quiet and steady. “Any idea where we are?”

Standing in a yellow column of light, Sapphira surveyed her surroundings. A cliff of granite stood in front of her, too sheer to climb. It rose to more than a hundred feet overhead and stretched out in a wide ledge at the top that overlooked the chasm below. The portal’s swirling exit column, so pale it was barely visible, seemed to dissipate as it reached toward the ceiling high above.

As she turned to face the source of heat, a bright glow blinded her eyes. The dazzling river of magma flowed a mere dozen paces away. She backed up against the cliff and clutched her chest. “We’re at the bottom of the chasm!”

Elam stepped closer to the river, raising his hands to block the heat, but as he approached the edge, he lowered them again. “It’s not really that hot.” He inched his finger toward the surface. “In fact, I think it’s ”

“Aaaaiiieee!”

The cry echoed throughout the chasm. A small, girlish body fell from the ledge, her ratty dress flapping around her legs as she dropped. Sapphira tried to scream, “Paili!” but the word barely squeaked through her cramping throat.

Paili’s body splashed into the magma river and disappeared from sight in the slow-moving stream. At the top of the cliff, Morgan brushed her hands together, and she and Mardon walked away from the ledge.

Makaidos blinked at the dim light. “What a bad dream!” he said out loud. He tried to turn on his eyebeams, but they didn’t seem to work. “Hmmm. Apparently I need more time in the sun.” He yawned and smacked his lips. “Or maybe in a regeneracy dome.”

As his mind cleared, he stretched his wings, but they felt strange. His foreleg touched something at his side, most likely his mate, but the sensation was different, softer somehow, more tactile. Turning his head slowly, he brought the form next to him into view.

He gasped. A human! A female human! He jerked his wing away and rolled to his haunches, but they weren’t haunches, they were feet and legs! Human ones! And his wing was a human arm, clothed in a soft sleeve.

He patted his body all over, feeling his human chest, waist, and legs. What was going on? Had he awakened from a bad dream only to fall into a nightmare? Using his newly found finger and thumb, he pinched the soft flesh on his cheek. Pain. Real pain. Surely he was wide awake, but how could he possibly be human?

Keeping his hand in front of his face, he examined his new fingers. A gold ring with a mounted red jewel was fastened around his index finger. As the gem pulsed between two shades of red, he stared at it in wonder. “My rubellite is mounted in a ring, and it blinks!”

Gazing all around, he studied the strange landscape, a ruined city with broken monuments and fountains and debris scattered everywhere.

Suddenly a stream of memories flooded his mind Goliath’s mocking voice, Devin’s flashing sword, Roxil’s cry as she slowly passed away at his side.

Makaidos gulped. “Roxil!” He jumped to the woman and shook her body. “Roxil!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “Wake up!”

Roxil groaned. “It is too early to rise, Father, even for a warrior.”

He shook her again. “Roxil! You must wake up. This is an emergency!”

Roxil blinked and gazed at Makaidos, then jerked away and shouted, “Who are you, human? Speak now, or I will torch you where you stand!”

“Roxil! Look at yourself! Look at your hands and arms!”

“Hands and arms?” Roxil lifted her hand toward her face. “What!?” she screamed. “What happened to me?”

“I have no idea. I am confused, too.” Makaidos lowered himself to his knees and gazed into her eyes. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

Her eyes locked onto his and widened as she whispered, “Father?”

He took his daughter’s hands and pulled her to her feet. His thumb rubbed over a rubellite ring that matched his own. “Somehow we were transformed into humans.” He released her and patted his body again. “We have human chests, human arms, human legs. It’s amazing!”

Her body wavered back and forth, and Makaidos steadied her. “Amazing was not the first word that came to my mind.”

“Do you remember what happened in the cave?” he asked.

She squinted at him, and, as her eyes widened again, they flashed. “Swords,” she said softly, “and humans thrusting them into us.”

“Yes! I recognized Sir Devin. He and someone else wielded swords, and I think . . .” He grasped her hand more tightly. “I think they killed us.”

“Killed us? But we are alive.” She pulled her hand away and wiggled her fingers. “We are as ugly as sin itself, but we are alive.”

Makaidos stooped and picked up a broken brick. “It seems that we have been transported to a new environment, a shattered world of some kind.” He rose and cast the brick into an empty fountain. “I expected to find a better place to rest when I died.”

Roxil scanned the toppled buildings and debris-strewn roads. “This city seems familiar to me.”

“It seems familiar to me, as well.” Makaidos brushed dirt from his hand and extended the other toward Roxil. “Shall we look around?”

“Do I have any choice?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.

He smiled and pulled gently. “No, you do not.”

As the sky brightened, they strolled along the road. Makaidos pointed at a rise in the ground in front of them. “This place in particular seems oddly familiar.” He waved his finger to one side of the rise. “If I reconstruct that broken fountain in my mind and raise those two toppled idols, it starts to look like ”

Roxil pulled away and ran to the slope. “Shinar!” She beat her arms against her sides. “Ohhh!” she groaned. “If only I could fly! I could see everything so much better!”

“And Nimrod’s tower is gone,” Makaidos noted, “so there is no place to climb to get a good view.” He joined Roxil and spun in a slow circle, his arms spread out. “This is absolutely amazing!”

Roxil grabbed his sleeve. “How can you possibly be happy about this? We are human now! We are disgusting, hateful, lust-filled, wine-guzzling bipeds!”

Makaidos rubbed the material on his sleeve. “How about that? God gave me a fine-looking human garment!” He stepped back and gazed at Roxil from head to toe, admiring her long cream-colored dress. “And look at you! What a lovely outfit!”

Roxil set her fists on her hips. “Father! You are impossible! We have degenerated into the worst of all the species, and just like the vainest of the lot, you are already obsessing over clothing!”

“I am not obsessing. I am marveling.” Makaidos laid a hand on her back and leaned close. “Listen to me. Obviously we have entered into some sort of afterlife. God has given us a new opportunity. Maybe we can make the human condition a better one, perhaps build a city that reflects the opposite of the corruption that Nimrod foisted upon the world.”

Roxil folded her arms over her chest. “What can we possibly do with this city? It is in ruins.”

“The symbolism is perfect.” Makaidos clasped his hands together. “As we rebuild the corrupted city, we reshape the human culture.”

“But how can just two people create a culture?”

“If this is a place where dragons go when they die, perhaps new ones will join us, and other dragons are likely here already. Some perished in the great flood and others died in battles with the Watchers before the flood.”

“How many?”

“Fifteen or so. We did not procreate quickly back then, so our numbers were few.”

Roxil spread out her arms. “Then where are they?”

Makaidos shrugged his shoulders. “The logical approach would be to look for them.”

“Logical, yes, but we are humans now. Logic never seemed to be a primary behavioral motivation for them whenever I was watching.”

“True enough for many of them.” He nudged her ribs. “But I also observed some dragons who ignored logic on many occasions.”

She looped her arm around his elbow. “If that means, ‘I told you so,’ then I guess I deserve it.”

“It was a gentle rebuke, my love.” He caressed her cheek with his hand, letting his knuckles linger. “This enhanced sense of touch is quite pleasant, is it not?”

She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder. “It is. I cannot deny it.”

“So, shall we explore this strange world and experience a new adventure?”

“I suppose so.” She walked at his side, then stopped and playfully poked his arm. “But I am going to keep my eye on you. I still lack trust in the human species, and now you are one of them.”

Makaidos shrugged his shoulders again. “Fair enough.” As the two strolled hand in hand along the path, he smiled. He wanted to look at his daughter’s facial expression, but sneaking a peek might tip the delicate balance of her emotions. He knew exactly what her dragon face would have looked like right now, a blend of skepticism and excitement. Although she despised humanity, she had to be relishing the adventure of living in a completely new world. Her human face probably bore a similar expression, perhaps mixed with a touch of fear. He regripped her cold, trembling hand. Maybe his confidence could cast out her fears.

They walked slowly toward the ruins of the city’s brick kilns. Shinar seemed much larger than before, and somehow closer, more intimate, even in its devastated condition. Marble fragments from broken statues littered the dirt path, and a dried-out tar pit sank away to one side. Makaidos pointed at one of the broken ovens. “We can make that area into a bakery, and the tar pits can be farmland.”

Roxil winced at the dark depressions in the earth. “Can you grow crops in tar?”

“I have no idea, but we will soon learn.” He stopped suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

He shook his head and continued walking. “Just an impression, an image in my mind. A girl begging me to speak to her.”

“What did she look like?”

Makaidos gazed upward. “It was fleeting, but I did see bright blue eyes and hair as white as wool.”

“Okay, Father, you are scaring me. First, you enjoy being human, now you are getting drunk without ever touching a wineskin.”

Makaidos smirked. “Shall I keep my visions to myself, then?”

“No, no. Go ahead and tell me. I have to monitor your sanity and keep you in line.”

After several minutes of exploring the ruins, Makaidos stopped again and squeezed Roxil’s hand. “Am I insane now?” He pointed at a pomegranate tree near a collapsed portico. “Or do I see a girl hiding behind that tree?”

Roxil whispered. “I see her, too. I cannot see her eyes, but her hair is brown, not white.”

“True. She is not the girl I saw in my mind.”

“Could she be one of the dragons who died in the flood? She is quite young.”

“It is possible,” Makaidos replied. “My sister Zera was a youngling when she died.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Roxil ran forward, waving. “Zera, is that you?”