Eye of the Oracle

chapter 6

COUNCILS OF WAR AND PEACE

Merlin skulked into the enormous cave, laying his hand against the side wall as he crept forward. This had to be the place. Valcor’s directions were exceedingly precise. As the cavern dimmed, he ducked under a spider dangling from the ceiling and slowed even further. Although he was more acquainted with dragons than was any other living human, the thought of attending a council of a dozen or more in an unfamiliar cave wasn’t exactly comforting. Some would be strangers, and if he failed to adequately explain why their king was killed by humans like himself, they might be inclined to use him as a torch for their council of war.

As he entered the darker inner cavern, Merlin slowly withdrew Excalibur from its sheath. The blade began to glow, lighting his way. Although he couldn’t see any dragon faces yet, he sensed a presence in the distance. He called into the void. “I am only carrying this for light. I assume you sense no danger from me.”

A deep, gentle voice replied. “You are most welcome here, Master Merlin. There is no malintent in your heart.”

Merlin increased Excalibur’s glow, illuminating the craggy walls of the vast chamber and a knee-high, flat stone at his feet. At least thirty dragons encircled him, several of them breathing loud, spark-filled snorts. His legs suddenly unsteady, he turned and located the female dragon who had greeted him. He bowed. “Hartanna, thank you for sending for me.” He swung back, noting several dragons he didn’t recognize, and nodded briefly toward Valcor, then to Thigocia before returning to Hartanna. “Your brother’s summons seemed urgent, so I came as quickly as I could.”

“It is urgent, dear prophet. Thigocia has asked me to gather Makaidos’s followers and inform them of our present distress. I summoned you for guidance concerning the affairs of the humans.”

“A wise decision.” Merlin sighed and turned to Thigocia again. “I assume you located the bodies of your departed mate and daughter.”

“I did.” A large tear trickled down Thigocia’s cheek. “I will take care of them. Perhaps Valcor will help me.”

Valcor dipped his head solemnly. “It would be an honor, my queen.”

Merlin sat heavily on the flat stone, wiping his teary eyes with his robe’s baggy sleeve. Taking a deep breath, he lifted Excalibur and gazed around the room. “Perhaps I am not as familiar with dragon customs as I ought to be, and my question might be premature, but will you choose a new king or will the queen assume the leadership role? In this time of crisis, the dragons will need a clear chain of command.”

Thigocia lowered herself to her belly, and the other dragons settled to the ground with her. “We have had only one succession,” she said, “and Arramos designated Makaidos as king before the flood. In other situations, we females assert ourselves boldly when no male will step to the lead, but without Makaidos, I would not be able to lead this noble group. I believe both genders are necessary for such guidance.”

“Then will you choose successors, or will you find another mate?”

Thigocia turned on her eyebeams and rested them on Merlin’s robe. “After thousands of years with my beloved, I cannot bear the thought of taking another. I will choose successors, one for Makaidos and one for myself.” Her scarlet beams drifted from one scaly body to the next until they rested on Clefspeare, who promptly scooted back a few inches. “If I may be so bold,” she continued, “I believe Clefspeare and Hartanna are best suited to take our places.”

“Clefspeare!” Hartanna cried. “He is ”

“Hartanna!” Thigocia’s beams flashed.

“Yes, Mother.” Hartanna closed her eyes, and her head dipped low. “If that is your will.”

Merlin rose to his feet and approached Clefspeare. “I will finish your sentence, dragoness, with my own opinion, if I may.” He laid a hand on Clefspeare’s neck. “He is a courageous and noble friend. There is no dragon, or even human, with greater integrity.”

A gentle smile broke through on Thigocia’s face. “No one can deny your words, Master Merlin. I believe Hartanna’s concern is that Clefspeare has always been such a loner that we only know of his heroic battle exploits, not whether he could lead the dragons or be a proper mate.”

Clefspeare made a rumbling sound within his chest and bowed. “Then let my service to your departed mate, my one and only king, be your guide. If it were my choice alone, I would continue in my life of solitude, but if your will is that I should be betrothed to Hartanna, then I humbly accept, for I know that your will is equal to that of Makaidos.” He raised his head and nodded toward Hartanna. “I do, however, request the traditional, five-year betrothal period. Before we pass through our covenant veil, a time of separation is essential for me to prepare myself for this duty.”

“Duty?” Hartanna snorted. “Does not marriage involve more than duty?”

Clefspeare slid farther back. Shadows covered his face.

“Hush!” Thigocia spread a wing over Hartanna. “My dear, words of warmth will encourage a reluctant male far more quickly than will the slap of a tail.”

Merlin angled the sword’s glow toward Thigocia. “I am not familiar with this covenant veil that Clefspeare mentioned. May I ask its meaning?”

Thigocia extended her neck, bringing her head close to Merlin. Her eyes glimmered with several reddish hues, as though replaying past wonders. “It is the most holy ceremony in our culture. When two dragons come together in wedlock, they must affirm a covenantal vow. Although uncorrupted dragons cannot knowingly utter false words, it is possible that they might not know their own hearts. So, in order to guard against self-deception or ambiguous intent, the dragons must have at least two witnesses present. These witnesses collect in front of the dragons, divided into two groups that stand about two tail lengths apart. The witnesses speak our traditional vows in unison, and this creates a spiritual covenant that hangs like a veil between the groups. The dragons then pass through that veil. If either one of them does not have the vow firmly entrenched in his or her heart, he or she will not be able to pierce the veil. We call it the Great Key, for it unlocks the secrets of a dragon’s heart.”

Merlin stared at her, chills running across his skin. “Remarkable! That is a great key, indeed!”

“I only wish Roxil had not rejected our tradition,” Thigocia said, her fiery eyes fading. “Goliath would not have passed through, and her tragedy would have been avoided.”

“A tragic mistake, indeed,” Merlin said. After pausing in silence for a few seconds, he raised a finger. “Can this veil be created for vows other than a marriage covenant?”

“I have been told that it can, but I have not witnessed it. I assume any sacred confession can be made into a veil.”

“I see.” Merlin raised the sword upright and rested it on his shoulder. “Now that you have settled the matter of succession, I am ready to offer my advice.”

“Speak, then,” Thigocia said. “We are listening.”

Merlin paced in the midst of the circle of dragons. “King Arthur has summoned a council of war. With Goliath on the rampage, I fear that he will heed Devin’s call to kill every dragon who follows that renegade.”

“And what would be wrong with that?” Valcor asked. “With Goliath and his ilk out of the way, the people would no longer fear us.”

“Quiet, Valcor!” Hartanna scolded. “They are our brothers and sisters! Do you care nothing for their souls?”

Valcor swung his tail around and flicked her on the ear. “Are you still my twin sister, or are you already queen?”

Merlin chuckled. “Thigocia, have they always been like this?”

“Even in the womb,” Thigocia replied. “I do not wish twins on any dragon mother.”

“Yet, they illustrate our need for unity against our common foe.” Merlin interlaced his fingers over his chest. “After today, we can only be united in purpose, not in physical fellowship. I don’t trust Devin to keep his war against dragons within the confines of Goliath’s followers, so all of you should go into hiding. Gather gems and build the best regeneracy domes you can. Rest and gain strength until you hear from me again. Your danger sense will alert you if Devin’s war expands and approaches your cave.”

“And if the war comes?” Hartanna asked. “What then?”

“I am formulating an idea that will radically alter everything you have come to know, even those of you who have lived for thousands of years, but it will save your lives and your future. Because the plan is so drastic, I will not deploy it unless Devin’s bloodlust spreads. Even then, I will reveal the strategy only to the new king and queen, and they will prepare you for what will come to pass.”

“Master Merlin,” Thigocia said, her eyes shifting from one dragon to the next, “I want to reassure my descendants, for I sense their anxiety.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them, displaying new tears. Her voice trembled. “Each dragon here . . . has its ultimate origin . . . in my womb . . . and I care for them beyond measure. I have lived for thousands of years, and I have known humans from every generation in the history of the world. Merlin, with the possible exception of Enoch himself, there has been none with more integrity than you. I trust you without reservation, and I am convinced that you are the new oracle. The spirit of Enoch and his son Methuselah rests on you like a mantle from above.”

Merlin brushed his sleeve across his eyes again. “Your words are kind, dear dragoness. I only hope that we will not have to pursue the measures I have in mind. If the plan bears fruit, however, I hope you will continue to trust me, for it will test your faith like nothing you can possibly imagine.”

He nodded toward Thigocia, Hartanna, Valcor, and finally, Clefspeare. “When you see me again, my friends, I fear that your lives will change forever.”

Holding her lighted torch, Sapphira stood next to Acacia at the center of the tower portal. The brood of twelve girls surrounded them, wearing the typical worker tunics, worn and ratty in places, yet cleaner and whiter than usual. “Just in case this portal leads to the top of the museum,” Sapphira said, “we should go one at a time. If we all pop onto the ceiling crossbeams, there’s no way they will hold us, and we couldn’t possibly sneak past Anak if we’re all together.”

Paili pulled on Sapphira’s sleeve. “Anak is gone.”

“Gone? Why?”

Paili closed her eyes and spoke slowly. “Morgan said she found your blood on the floor, so Anak went to hell.” She exhaled loudly and opened her eyes, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Sapphira covered her mouth and gasped between her knuckles. “To hell?”

Elam extended a finger. “That’s one obstacle out of the way.” He raised a handful of straw he had gathered. “Can I go first, you know, to check it out? I don’t want any of you to get hurt if Morgan’s around.”

Acacia took Elam’s free hand in both of hers and held it close to her chest. “Where did you find this gentleman, Mara? Our teacher told us that unselfish men were rare.”

Hot prickles dotted Sapphira’s neck. “My name is Sapphira now.” She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I guess we kind of found each other . . . but, sure, Elam can go first.”

Elam laid most of the straw on the floor and tightened his fist around the small handful he kept. Sapphira touched the torch’s flame to the ends and stepped back. “Now wave it above your head in a circle.”

Elam swirled the small fire around, but the wind he created snuffed the tiny flame. Sapphira yelled, “Ignite!” and the flame shot up, quickly burning down toward Elam’s hand. “Faster!” she shouted.

Elam whirled the flame so fast, it looked like a single line of orange. The line expanded and dropped like a falling curtain until it reached the floor and covered Elam’s body with a flickering veil. Suddenly, he vanished, leaving only a few scattered ashes on the floor.

Acacia took Elam’s place. “I should go next,” she said. “The girls know me, so I should be there when they arrive.”

Sapphira chewed on her lip. “Okay,” she said, shifting on her feet again. “Get some straw.”

Acacia took a handful from the floor and copied Elam’s actions. After she disappeared, Sapphira instructed the others to follow Paili first, then the twelve new arrivals. Each one gave her name, and Sapphira tried to lock them into her mind. The girls seemed to come in matching sets of three, and within each trio, the spawns looked so much alike it would be impossible to tell them apart later. From trio to trio, they ranged from the darkest human skin she had ever seen to complexions as light as her own, and the hair of the dark girls seemed thick and crinkly, while the fair-skinned girls had light, baby-fine hair.

When the last spawn disappeared, one of three olive-skinned girls with carelessly cropped short hair, Sapphira shuffled into place. All the amazing events of the day confused her thoughts and chased the new names from her memory. She gazed down at the former dragons. Makaidos had found a mallet and was swinging it at the base of one of the remaining idols. Obviously, he wanted to get his job done in a hurry, but, although several idols already lay crumbled, this one seemed to defy his most powerful blows.

Sapphira raised her torch. In one sense, Makaidos had it easy. He knew exactly what to do. If only Elohim would give her straightforward commands, she would be glad to obey them, wouldn’t she?

As she swirled the torch in a wide circle, sadness again swept across her mind. She would soon be back in Morgan’s world, now a fugitive who would have to avoid the dark mistress at all costs. But how? Morgan seemed to know so much more than anyone.

The torch’s light grew into a wall of flames and descended toward her feet. As her legs began to transform, a familiar warmth caressed her thigh. She pressed her free hand against the Ovulum and smiled. Maybe someone knew more than Morgan did. Maybe soon, when she needed him most, he would prove it.

As Merlin strode toward the throne room, a guard pushed the doors open and shouted into the inner chamber. “Merlin, prophet of the Most High and advisor to His Majesty, has arrived.”

Merlin entered, shaking his head as he tromped across the newly installed red carpet. Ever since Devin had been accepted as one of the king’s knights, he insisted on all this silly pomp and heraldry. Merlin had the urge to spit something nasty on the floor. Devin should sweep up all this nonsense and take it with him to

“Hello, Merlin!”

Merlin jerked his head up. Devin smiled, pretentiously friendly, as always, when preening for an audience. The knight, dressed completely in black, stood next to the king, who was seated at his usual place, centered near the front of the platform. Although he rested comfortably on his newly installed throne, his eyes stared straight ahead. They seemed glazed . . . distant . . . as if his mind wandered elsewhere.

The loyal knights Lancelot, Gawain, and the others stood at floor level facing the king, each one dressed in typical finery, though most of them flinched and shifted, as though aching to scratch themselves.

Two women huddled close on a two-person bench next to Arthur’s throne, both draped in black and seated with their hands folded on their knees.

Merlin eyed the taller of the two beautiful, with flawless raven locks that meandered down her back, and sharp, angular facial features framing piercing eyes that promised an equally sharp mind. When her eyes locked with his, a cold chill penetrated his heart.

He bowed to the king, then to the two ladies, before finally acknowledging Devin. “Have you brought two new witnesses for the prosecution?”

“Merlin,” Arthur chided, “your manners are sorely lacking.” He gestured toward the women. “They are sisters of mine Morgan and Elaine, by my mother and her first husband.”

Merlin gave them the slightest of bows. “Clearly they are not quite as dead as you had heard.”

“No. They were ”

“Merlin,” Morgan interrupted, rising in front of her bench, “obviously my dear brother hasn’t had the opportunity to inform you of our rescue from the dragons. Even though my mother, Lady Igraine, gave us up as lost, Sir Devin never abandoned the search. With God as his guide, he found us in Makaidos’s cave when he killed the beast and his demon witch daughter.”

Merlin raised his brow. “It’s odd that Sir Devin neither escorted you home nor informed us of your rescue when Clefspeare and I found him and Palin near the cave.”

A hint of sarcasm spiced Morgan’s tone. “For your information, Sir Devin and Palin acquired horses for their journey, and as soon as they rescued us, they, in their most chivalrous manner, beseeched us to ride to Camelot while they walked home with the king.” She gestured toward Devin. “Regarding the honorable knight’s lack of boasting, such humility is in keeping with his unimpeachable character.”

Merlin glanced at Devin, catching a brief smirk on his face. “Oh, I see. I’m not surprised. I expected Devin to cook up a scheme to gather all the dragons into his murderous net, and this one has a foul recipe, indeed.”

Arthur shot to his feet. “Merlin! Are you accusing my sister of lying?”

Morgan sat down, her nose uplifted. “How rude!”

“Your sister?” Merlin pointed at Morgan. “I am accusing this woman of lying, whoever she might be.”

Sir Devin gripped the hilt of his sword. “Your Majesty! Allow me to silence this reviler forever.”

Merlin withdrew Excalibur and held it high. It blazed with brilliant white light. “Whom do you trust, King Arthur?” He waved his arm at the three dressed in black. “This foul beast of a knight who tickles your ears with songs of praise? These two dark women who suddenly appear on the eve of a council of war against dragons with an amazing tale of rescue from ‘evil’ dragons?” He took a step closer to the king and allowed the sword’s radiance to pass across his face. “Or do you trust a prophet of God, who tells you the unmixed truth, who awakens your conscience and undresses your soul, who has guided your steps from the very first one you took until this present day of sorrows?”

Morgan scowled. “A prophet of God?” she asked, her voice laced with venom. “Did you not disguise Uther as my father so he could deceive and take advantage of my mother?”

Merlin swung toward Morgan, letting the blade’s glow sweep across her body. A slight flinch wrinkled her face, but she quickly recovered. He lowered the sword and rested the flat on Morgan’s shoulder. She recoiled, her brow furrowing, and her cheeks paled.

“Now I finally know who hatched that lie about me.” Merlin turned his head toward the knights and nobles gathered before the king. “Morgan’s father, Gorlois, perished mysteriously, and Arthur’s father, Uther, always denied her mother’s accusation that he arranged Gorlois’s death. Yet, Uther loved Igraine and took her as his wife, begetting our future king, a child born of love, not of deception.” He raised the sword and arced it toward Elaine. The petite woman glared at him, unflinching. “I have heard stories of nymphean deceivers and their seed-collecting ways,” he said. “For how many centuries have you two been planning this wicked scheme?”

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted. “Have you gone completely mad? I command you to withdraw!”

Merlin backed away and resheathed the sword, but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on Morgan. “As you wish, Sire.”

Devin thrust his finger toward Merlin. “Your Majesty, I object to this vile accuser’s profane impeachment of your sisters’ honor. In his mad, misguided attempt to save his demonic allies, he has chosen to slander your family! In order to clear his own name, he has indicted your mother as a liar!” He swept his arm toward Morgan and Elaine. “This insane prophet has turned a celebration of your lost sisters’ joyous return into a shameful display of self-exoneration and embarrassing insults against the virtue and reputations of these impeccable ladies. I insist that he be censured and removed from this council!”

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, his face blistering red. “I am persuaded to heed Sir Devin’s counsel. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Merlin kept his voice calm and quiet. “Remember that I speak from times gone by, before you ever breathed the air of the kingdom you now rule and before Sir Devin breathed his first lie. Before you ever saw scale or claw of your first dragon, I rested in the crook of Clefspeare’s leg, in the very shadow of his fiery snout. In the cold night air of his drafty cave, I slept unmolested under the cover of his gentle wing. Take heed to what you are about to do. The way of death is irreversible. Do what you must to the bloodthirsty followers of Goliath, but leave those faithful to the teachings of Makaidos alone.”

The king sat down and took a deep breath, stroking his chin while gazing at the floor. Merlin eyed Morgan closely and caught her giving an almost imperceptible nod to Devin. Devin winked at the entry guard, who quietly opened the door.

Palin burst into the room, red-faced. “Clefspeare,” he said, panting, “has killed Andrew . . . the horse merchant. He burned him like straw . . . in front of witnesses!”

Arthur jerked his head up. “Clefspeare? Are you certain?”

Palin nodded, still breathless. “Witnesses, Sire. We have witnesses.”

Merlin set his hands on his hips and sighed. “Well done, Sir Devin. I should be ashamed of myself for not predicting that you would sink to such depths.”

Arthur pointed at the exit, his voice shaking. “Merlin, I ask you to leave on your own accord. I honor you too well to have you escorted under armed guard.”

Merlin bowed. “As you wish, Sire.” He walked slowly toward the door, trying to catch Morgan’s eye, but she averted her gaze. Near the exit, he stopped and raised a finger. “There is one request I wish to make, Your Majesty. May I have an audience with Morgan? It is obvious that I have offended her, so I wish to converse with her privately to ensure that our relationship is” he rolled his eyes upward, searching for the right phrase “mutually understood.”

“Granted!” Arthur said. “I’m sure my sisters would both like to repair this unfortunate first impression.”

Morgan finally looked Merlin’s way. Her eyes flashed red. Merlin nodded at her and, without turning back again, walked out the door.

Sapphira jumped from the final ladder rung and gazed at the many pairs of eyes staring at her. The girls seemed winded after the long climb down the museum’s bookshelves, and their somber expressions mirrored those on the twelve statues surrounding the tree. Sapphira caressed the face of one of the darker-skinned girls. It was no wonder they were tired. The portal from the dragons’ dimension had led to Morgan’s scary island, and the eerie howling of a dog had set them all on edge. It didn’t take long, however, for Sapphira to find the portal near the apple tree that led back to the museum.

Elam smacked a heavy scroll against a shelf. “No sign of Morgan anywhere. She’s probably in her castle or in the true upper realms.”

“The true upper realms?” Acacia asked.

Elam jerked his thumb upward. “The dimension where I come from, the land of the living. I guess since I was her prisoner, Morgan didn’t mind telling me what’s going on. You see, she’s really dead . . . well . . . sort of dead, so she has to stay in what she calls the circles of seven, a place my father called Sheol. We’re underneath one of the circles, but we still can’t go from here to there without some kind of portal, because there’s no tunnel all the way to the top.”

Acacia looked up in wonder. “Then can we block her from coming back somehow?”

Elam pointed the scroll at Sapphira. “You’re the portal maker. What do you think?”

Sapphira tapped a finger on her chin. “I suppose if we could somehow move the portal she uses, she couldn’t get in here. At least then we’d be safe.”

Paili shivered. “Not with Mardon and giants here!”

“She’s right,” Elam said. “We would still have to deal with them.”

“I’d rather face a hundred giants than one Morgan.” With the others following, Sapphira exited the tower’s museum and crept toward the shining blue column, perhaps the only remaining portal Morgan could use to enter the lower realms. “Morgan can find portals when she’s down here, because most of them are lit up, but they’re not visible up above. I can just sort of feel them when I’m up there.”

“Then how does Morgan find them?” Elam asked.

“I think she just remembers where she appears in the land above.” Sapphira gazed at the swirling blue light. “Morgan comes here through this portal, so if I move the spot where it comes out up above, she won’t be able to get here, because she probably doesn’t know about the portal on her island that leads to the top of the museum.” Sapphira touched the edge of the column of light, making it sparkle at the tip of her finger. “But it’s pretty risky, because I’m not sure where this one leads, and I don’t know if I can create a firestorm big enough to move it. I watched the dragons make one, and that was more fire than I’ve ever seen in my life!”

“A firestorm?” Acacia took Sapphira’s hand. “If we’re both oracles of fire, maybe you can teach me how to make fire, and we can try to do it together.”

Sapphira let out a long sigh. “Anything to keep Morgan away from these girls.” She squeezed Acacia’s hand and pulled her toward the column. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“We’ll wait here.” Elam picked up another scroll and clacked them together. “I can probably take on Mardon, but the giants are a different story. I learned that from fighting Nabal for my dinner.”

Sapphira and Acacia stepped into the portal together and hugged each other close. Sapphira raised a hand and reached for a fistful of blue light, catching it like a rope and pulling down. In a blinding flash, the museum chamber crumbled away, and, seconds later, a million pieces of multicolored light flew together and bonded seamlessly into a new mosaic, a dim sky framing the dark turrets of Morgan’s castle. An orange hue on one side signaled the breaking of dawn.

Sapphira set a hand on her hip and whispered, “I thought we might come out in the land of the living where the tower fell, but this is pretty close to the portal we used to go home just a little while ago. I guess this one really did move from Shinar, like Morgan guessed.”

“How did the firestorm move the portal here?” Acacia whispered back.

“I don’t know. The dragons moved it to the tower from another place first, but Morgan told me that everything shifted around after that, so I guess it moved again.” Sapphira nodded toward the swamp behind them. “She keeps snakes back there and a big dog inside the castle, so we have to be extra quiet.”

Acacia pointed at a nearby apple tree. “She probably recognizes the portal site by landmarks like this tree, so we have to move it to a place where she would never find it.”

“Right, but if an entire first floor of a tower can sink into a new portal, we’ll probably take some stuff with us, too. We don’t want to do it where she’s likely to miss something that gets swept up in the storm.”

“Good point,” Acacia said. “We can’t leave any evidence.”

“But where could we possibly go?”

Acacia turned toward the swamp. “Are you afraid of snakes?”

“Well, take away the fact that some can squeeze you to death and swallow you whole, and the fact that some can inject venom that will eat your flesh or shrivel you into a prune . . . no, not really.”

“Same here.” Acacia tiptoed into the swamp.

Sapphira tugged on the back of Acacia’s dress. “I was kidding. We can’t go in there.” The sun’s dawning rays illuminated the dark water. A mere two arm lengths away, a long, slender body broke the surface, its scales reflecting the sunlight. It quickly disappeared again, and the water stilled.

Acacia backed up a step. “Do you have a better place? Somewhere Morgan won’t notice?”

“No, but even if we don’t get eaten, do you want to take a bunch of swamp water and deadly snakes down where the other girls are?”

“What are you afraid of? We can make fire, can’t we? We can burn them to a crisp.”

Sapphira pointed at herself. “I can make fire, but I haven’t taught you how yet.”

A dog barked in the distance, then howled loud and long.

“You’d better start teaching me. That dog’s bound to alert someone.”

Sapphira picked up two sticks at the base of the apple tree and handed one to Acacia. “You just kind of think fire onto the wood, but you also have to speak to it to make it happen.” Sapphira stared at her stick and said, “Ignite!” A small flame immediately erupted on the end.

Furrowing her brow, Acacia focused her eyes on her stick and whispered through tight lips, “Ignite!” Nothing happened.

The dog howled again, this time louder.

“Concentrate!” Sapphira urged. “Give it everything you’ve got.”

Acacia gripped the stick so tightly, it trembled in her hands. “Ignite!” Again, nothing happened. She lowered the stick and frowned. “What am I doing wrong?”

Sapphira felt a familiar warmth on her thigh. The Ovulum was signaling for her attention. “You’re supposed to get your power from Elohim, the God of Noah. You haven’t danced with him yet, so I guess he hasn’t given it to you.”

“Danced? You have to dance with someone to get power?”

Sapphira withdrew the Ovulum and showed it to Acacia. It glowed red and warm in her palm. “Well, the first time I did it, the Eye of the Oracle told me to command the fire to appear, but I never really felt the power was my own until I danced with Elohim. He’s the one who speaks through the man in the Ovulum.”

Acacia laid a hand on top of her head. “Okay, you’re making my head hurt. You danced with a god, and there’s a man in that egg?”

“Yes.” She handed the Ovulum to Acacia. “Just look inside and see if you can find ”

The dog howled once more and bounded into sight, a huge, long-legged beast with a multicolored coat that shimmered in the glow of the rising sun. His shining eyes locked onto them, and he loped their way, closing the gap quickly.

Sapphira spun and held out her stick, shouting, “Blaze!” A bright flame shot up, and she waved it at the dog. “Get back!”

The dog halted and growled, baring its long, sharp teeth.

Acacia gazed into the Ovulum. “I see him! He’s my teacher!”

Sapphira thrust the firebrand toward the dog, making it back away a step. She twisted her neck toward Acacia. “Is he saying anything?”

Acacia, now standing in ankle-deep water, cradled the Ovulum in her palm. “Yes! He’s talking to me.” She held her firebrand up and spoke to the glass shell. “Like this?” The Ovulum seemed to nod as it wobbled in her hand. Acacia lifted her head toward the stick and shouted, “Flames, come to my firebrand!” The stick immediately flashed with fire.

Sapphira backed toward the water, still thrusting her firebrand at the dog. With each step she took, the dog took its own step closer, staying low. When her feet touched the cold swamp, she gave the dog a last lunging thrust, then lifted her stick high and spun it in a fast orbit. She yelled, “Give me a firestorm!”

The dog lunged. A twisting wall of flames encircled the two girls, throwing the dog back. A yelp and a splash followed, then silence.

Sapphira peered through slender gaps in the orbiting wall. The dog crouched at the edge of the swamp, as if waiting for the slightest opportunity to pounce again. She hooked her arm around Acacia’s elbow and edged farther out into the mire. There was no going back now.

The wall of fire dipped into the water and raised thick plumes of steam. The wall fizzled, becoming thin and transparent as it cooled. Three snake bodies humped over the water’s surface about four paces in front of them. The dog crowded the bank and growled, his lip curling away from his teeth. A trio of scaly heads popped up from the swamp, their mouths open and fangs bared.

Sapphira waved her stick faster, nearly knocking it into Acacia’s tiny flame. Sapphira slid her arm around her sister’s waist. “We need more power! Call for a firestorm!”

The chilly water seemed to consume their dwindling wall. The dog waded toward them, closing in. One of the snakes swam through a gap in the flames and slithered around Acacia’s legs. As it traveled up her body, it wound her in tight coils, and when it reached her chest, its head swung around to the front, ready to strike.

Nearly blinded by steamy vapor, Sapphira grabbed the snake’s neck and wrestled it with one arm while trying to keep her firebrand rotating. The struggle jostled Acacia’s arm, knocking the Ovulum into the water.

The other two snakes swam around them in a slow orbit, drawing closer with each revolution. Pushing with all her might, Sapphira wrenched the snake’s neck toward the swamp’s muddy bed. She shoved her toe into the wet sand and nudged the Ovulum onto the top of her foot, raising it to the water’s surface, but with neither hand free, she couldn’t grab it.

Acacia reached for the egg, but the snake’s thick coils kept her from bending. She grunted, her voice breaking. “I . . . can’t . . . reach it!”

The other two snakes turned toward them and broke through the fire. Sapphira screamed at the Ovulum as it rocked precariously on her foot. “Elohim! Help us!”