Eye of the Oracle

chapter 2

THE DARK SIDE OF THE RAINBOW

Makaidos unfurled his wings in the stiff, damp breeze. “Thigocia, I still sense danger.”

“As do I.” Twin plumes of smoke rose from the female dragon’s nostrils. “More Nephilim?”

“I cannot tell. The danger is too far away to be sure, or perhaps my nerves are still rattled from the fight.”

“It is not nervousness that troubles me.” Thigocia sniffed the air and stepped on a huge blackened body lying in the midst of the grassy meadow. “The stench of this Naphil carcass is making me ill.”

Makaidos tried to calm himself, but the strange beads of water sprinkling from the dark sky seemed to strum his tightened awareness. The prophets had predicted this “rain,” as they called it, yet knowing it was coming merely enhanced the anxiety it aroused. Black clouds boiled over the mountaintops and streamed above their lush, orchard-filled valley, adding even more gloom to the dismal skies. He breathed a stream of flames toward a nearby fig orchard, brightening the area for a brief moment. “Maybe I sense his brother lurking in the trees.”

“I doubt it. I scorched his arm to the bone. He is likely running home to his demonic daddy.”

Makaidos pawed the moistening soil. “Is the Oracle safe?”

Thigocia unfurled her wing. A lanky old man with thin, frazzled white hair and a ragged beard tripped over her pinion and tumbled to the grass. The man rose to his feet and brushed dirt from his knee-length robe. “If I can avoid killing myself,” he said, “I should survive, at least until the deluge.”

Makaidos nudged the dead giant’s body with his clawed fingers until it rolled faceup. The Naphil flopped its arm on the ground with a heavy thud. Makaidos pricked the arm with a spine on his tail. No reaction, not even a twitch from his massive, six-fingered hand.

“Are you making sure he’s dead?” the Oracle asked.

“Yes. I have never been able to kill any of the Nephilim before, so I thought they might be immortal. But when I saw dark mist streaming from this one’s mouth, I hoped his foul soul was being dragged to the abyss.”

“I torched the other giant,” Thigocia said, “but it barely fazed him, and we both still feel an evil presence.” Keeping her wing over the old man’s balding scalp, she gazed into his eyes. “Can the Ovulum see beyond our senses? Is danger on the horizon?”

The Oracle held up a shining orb, egg-shaped and about the size of a large pear. As it rested in his palm, scarlet halos emanated from its smooth, glassy surface, painting his withered face in their glow. The rings of color radiated all around the entire company, creating an umbrella of light. “A Watcher is lurking,” he said, “but the Ovulum cannot tell me how close he is.”

He mopped his forehead with his sleeve and breathed out a long sigh. “The king chose well to have you two guard me. I had my doubts about the female’s experience, but she has certainly proven me wrong.”

“We are both honored to serve the children of Adam. And you are right about Thigocia.” Makaidos swished his tail toward her. “My father believes she is the most promising young warrior in his kingdom.”

Thigocia closed her eyes and bowed. “Praise the Maker,” she whispered.

The old man sighed again. “Yes . . . promising.” He held out his hand, allowing a thin pool of water to gather in his palm. “Earthly promises are washing away, as are the lives of Adam’s progeny. Life itself fades like withering grass.” He patted Thigocia on her flank. “And warriors must learn other arts . . . at least for a time.”

Thigocia raised her head. “Other arts? What other ”

Makaidos snorted a plume of smoke. “I sense a Watcher close at hand! Guard the Oracle!”

Thigocia wrapped up the old man again, pinning him to her side, and ignited the surrounding grass to create a ring of fire around herself and Makaidos. A mammoth-sized angel with dark red wings appeared out of the thick blanket of clouds and flew to the earth. He stalked around the blazing circle, his radiant robes reflecting the tongues of sizzling fire. “A ring of flames, dragoness?” the angel said. “Not very creative for such a wet, dreary day, but that’s to be expected of a senseless beast like you.”

Makaidos flicked his tail toward Thigocia. “Do not answer him. He is baiting us.”

She growled. “I have fought this demon before. We must be on our guard. He is powerful and crafty.”

The Oracle’s shaggy head pushed through a gap in Thigocia’s wing. “He is drawn to the Ovulum’s power. I can feel his mind connecting with its energy field. There is no use hiding it from him.”

Thigocia reignited a dampening arc in the protective circle. “But how could he have found the Ovulum’s signal among all the decoys?”

“The question is irrelevant,” the Oracle replied. “All our energy must be focused on protecting the Ovulum. Its shield must cover the refuge boat. Nothing else matters.”

Makaidos lowered his voice to a faint rumble. “I will lure him away. I know a ruse he likely has not seen.”

Thigocia whispered back. “Do not try it! Your father wishes that we stay together.”

“He wishes that I protect the Oracle and the shield. That wish trumps all others.” Makaidos unfurled his wings and rose into the air.

“Be careful!” Thigocia shouted. “Other demons might be on the way!”

Makaidos launched his body upward, beating his wings against the stormy breeze. Sharp droplets stung his eyes as he zoomed toward the billowing clouds. Then, gliding just below the dark ceiling, he watched for the demon to give chase, but the cascade of water blurred his view. He could see the meadow and the prophet’s fig tree orchard, but little else. Even Thigocia was just a smudge in the center of her blazing ring.

Makaidos took in a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, pushing a narrow stream of fire into the breeze. Flying awkwardly, like a wounded duck ready to plunge to its death, he allowed the flames to sputter into weak sparks. He glanced down again and caught sight of the Watcher. The demon lifted into the air and glided over the fig trees in a low circle, rising with each arc.

Makaidos laughed to himself. What a fool this demon was to wander into the prophet’s land alone! Was he a scout? A castoff? No matter. That corrupted son of God would soon fry in the abyss.

A heavy mist swirled around Makaidos. He aimed his ruby eyebeams into the fog. Where was the scoundrel now? Had he figured out the ruse and fled?

Two huge creatures in gleaming chain mail suddenly dropped from the clouds, shooting black streaks from their fiery eyes. Makaidos dodged the first volley, but the second splashed against his right flank. He collapsed his wings and plummeted headfirst. He had to get away and warn Thigocia before the darkness spell could take hold.

The burning black resin spread across his scales, climbing toward his face like acidic worms. The field below rushed toward him as a troop of towering demons stalked Thigocia and the prophet. The Ovulum’s scarlet halos pulsed over them like bloody ocean waves.

Makaidos’s sense of danger blared in his mind. He tried to stretch out his weakened wings. Would they be able to pull him up in time? Maybe he could plow into a row of Watchers and die in a blaze of glory. Why not? With the prophesied storm gaining strength, he was destined to die soon anyway.

His wings caught the air, leveling his body. After snorting a barrage of fiery cannonballs, he curled into a sphere and crashed into the evil squadron. As his body rolled, demon after demon toppled over. When he finally came to a stop, he looked up. Samyaza, the leader of the Watchers, towered over him, a derisive smirk spreading contempt across his face.

The Seraph laughed. “A remarkable show, young prince. Your father would be proud.”

Makaidos strained to speak. “He will be proud . . . when I blow you . . . into a million blazing pieces.”

Samyaza kicked Makaidos in the belly. Pain streaked through his body, radiating all the way to his tail. The black worms crawled over his eyes and drew a curtain of darkness across his vision. His ears burned as Samyaza’s mocking voice pierced his brain. “When we kill the Oracle, his shield will collapse, and we will destroy the refuge boat. Now, give in to the darkness. Everything you have worked for is lost.”

As the darkness spell swallowed Makaidos, doubt and despair flooded his mind. He moaned softly. Why had his father trusted him to protect the Oracle? He and Thigocia were too young, too inexperienced to stand against such powerful fallen angels. He had been a fool to take the assignment, too proud to have any doubt in his abilities. Samyaza was right. All was lost.

As he drifted toward unconsciousness, the sound of bestial roars and a flurry of wings sounded in his ears. He released a long sigh, perhaps his last breath. Surely the battle would be over soon. Thigocia would die valiantly. The feeble Oracle would put up a futile last stand and then be crushed by the cruel Watchers. And no one would hear their cries for help.

Heat flared across Makaidos’s body, and a soothing voice awakened his mind.

“Makaidos? Can you hear me?”

Makaidos squirmed. Father’s voice? How could that be? He turned his ears to listen. The voice caressed his senses like the sun’s gentle beams on a spring morning.

“Awake, my son. You have fought well. Thigocia told me of your heroics, and she is now burning away the darkness. Take in her fire. Breathe the warmth through your scales. Restore your strength and renew your confidence. When I chose you to guard the Oracle, I chose well. You have made me proud.”

A flash of heat melted the blackness away from Makaidos’s eyes. Two dragons stood at his side. The tawny one, Thigocia, breathed a stream of fire at his body, melting away the black resin. Arramos, his father, stood at his side, his magnificent red scales reflecting the flames.

Makaidos struggled to his feet, pushing with his tail to balance his wobbly frame. The sky seemed darker, the clouds, thicker, and rain continued to pelt the meadow. The glow from the Ovulum rings had vanished. “The Oracle!” Makaidos cried. “Is he safe?”

Arramos lowered his eyes and shook his head. “Samyaza killed him and destroyed the Ovulum’s shield. Clirkus is flying his body back to his people.”

Makaidos slumped his wings to the ground. “Then all is lost. We have failed.”

Arramos curved his neck, positioning his head directly in front of Makaidos. “Not yet. Hilidan and the others are chasing the Watchers, and I will join them. There is no time to lose, but I wanted to make sure of your safety first.”

“My safety? What about the Oracle’s safety? You would have done well to choose other guardians for him. We failed you.”

“On the contrary, you wounded enough Watchers to allow Thigocia to fend them off until we arrived.” Arramos stretched out his tail and prodded Makaidos’s shoulder. “Spread your wings, Son, so Thigocia can finish her work.”

Makaidos obeyed. A new surge of heat massaged the more sensitive coat under one of his wings. It stung, but each second of burning away the darkness seemed to sharpen his mind.

“We had been tracking them,” Arramos continued, “and we were patrolling nearby, close enough to sense the danger. Now that the Watchers have come out of hiding, we can finish them off for good.”

“For good?” Makaidos bared his teeth, grimacing at the pain of Thigocia’s healing massage. “But the Oracle is dead, and the shield is gone! What good can possibly come from this disaster?”

Arramos thumped his tail on the ground. “Makaidos, the Oracle knew he would die today. All is coming to pass exactly as he had foreseen, and the end of the Watchers is at hand. Now that the shield is down, you and Thigocia must fly immediately to the refuge boat and protect it while we destroy the rest of the demons.”

Thigocia turned off her fiery jets. “Protect the boat? Are you sure we can do it?”

“We would serve you better chasing the Watchers,” Makaidos said, snorting a stream of sparks. “We are both faster than Hilidan.”

Arramos spat a fireball into the air. “No!”

Makaidos backed away, trembling.

“They will split up,” Arramos continued, “and we will not be able to track them all. If any demon eludes us, he will surely go straight to the boat. We need two guardians there, and you must leave now!”

Makaidos unfurled his wings again. Bowing his head, he spoke softly. “If that is your will, Father.” With his gaze on the ground, he noticed the Ovulum, now dark and smeared with mud. He scooped it up in his clawed hand and let the rain wash away the grime. As the scarlet glass cleared, the image of a man’s face appeared deep within the crystal, a ruddy tint blushing his wrinkled cheeks. The man’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Makaidos closed his claws around it. Very strange! But it was a mystery that would have to wait.

He lifted into the air, nodding at Thigocia, and without another word the two young dragons soared into the weeping sky.

Japheth smeared a line of pitch across the joint between two planks . . . the last two planks. Checking hundreds of seams had taken all day, but it had to be done. The huge boat sat in a rocky trench, untested for buoyancy or leaks. Only water, and plenty of it, could prove if the last hundred years of labor amounted to anything more than the biggest waste of time the world had ever known. He, for one, didn’t want to risk the lives of his whole family by slacking off for a single hour, especially now that the final day, the seventh day of the prophecy, was at hand.

Japheth ambled across a sagging rope-and-sapling bridge from the main deck to the rim of the trench and then into the shade of one of the dozen or so tall sycamores surrounding the ark. After wiping his hands with a fibrous rag, he picked up a flask and guzzled a long drink. Ah! He mopped his dripping chin with his sleeve. Water never tasted so good!

Taking his rag and his flask, he walked out onto the bridge again and peered down at his brother Shem about thirty feet below. The main door to the boat, which they called “Eve’s Door,” was wider than an elephant and as tall as a giraffe. It lay open inside the trench next to Shem, like a ramp awaiting more cargo to tromp aboard. A tense crease dug into Shem’s brow as he ran his hand over the hull.

Japheth reached his flask over Shem and poured out a trickle, hoping it would . . . Yes! Right on his head!

Shem leaned back and held out his open palm.

“No, it’s not raining yet,” Japheth said, laughing.

Shem shook his head, running his fingers through his gray-speckled hair. “It will be soon. You’d better finish those seams.” He turned back to his work, his brow once again furrowing.

“My seams are done.” Japheth crouched on the swaying bridge to get a better look at the joint his brother was checking. “Will it hold?”

Shem dug his fingertip into the crack. “It’s sealed underneath.” He clambered up a tall ladder and hoisted himself out of the trench. Now standing on the land side of the bridge, he peeled away a shred of dried pitch from his hand. “I think that’s all. We’re finally ready.”

Japheth scrambled off the bridge and handed Shem the rag. “Then why the long face?” He nodded toward a bank of boiling clouds spreading across the darkening horizon. “It’s coming, but we’ll be fine.”

Shem wiped his hands, meticulously stripping pitch from each finger. “Exactly. Rain is coming.” He gestured toward the boat with his head. “Inside that hull, hundreds of hooves are trampling straw on a thousand cords of gopher wood.” He laid the rag over his shoulder and began counting on his fingers. “We have a cantankerous camel that spits at Father whenever he walks by, a parrot that never stops shouting, ‘Kill the skunks!’ two dogs that shed enough hair to make wigs for all of humanity, and a pair of elephants that are always ” Shem grimaced. “Well, let’s just say that I brought an extra shovel and a stack of empty bags.”

“Prolific pachyderms?” Japheth pinched his nose and laughed. “But even a big stink is no surprise. We knew the stalls would get filled with ”

“Shhh!” Shem grabbed Japheth’s shoulder. “Father is coming.”

Noah exited a wide door in the main quarters on the top deck, “Adam’s door,” as they called it, and ambled across the bridge, brushing a sticky splotch of gray hair off his forehead with his sleeve. “Fool camel,” he grumbled. “You’d think I’d have learned by now.”

Japheth elbowed Shem’s ribs and smiled, but Shem’s frown deepened.

“Father,” Shem said, stroking his beard, “we have a problem.”

Their father’s gaze lifted toward the darkening skies. “Still no dragons?”

“No sign of them,” Shem replied. “I have been watching all day.”

Japheth copied his brother’s serious aspect, forcing himself to frown as he cleared his throat. “I have a comfortable stall ready for them on our level, better than my own quarters, but I haven’t seen a plume of smoke or a scaly wing anywhere.”

The old man clasped Japheth on the shoulder. “They will come. God promised at least two of every breathing creature, so the dragons will be here before the flood can sweep them away.”

Japheth held out his hand. Tiny droplets moistened his palm and began to form a pool. Rain. Just as his father had prophesied. Ever since God had called out to Noah by name, he had been in close conversation with the Almighty, so why doubt him now? The dragons would come.

Japheth shook the water from his hand. “Shall we untie the bridge? The dragons could fly to the main deck.”

Noah shook his head. “Your brother has not returned.”

“Ham is gone again?” Japheth glanced into the trench at the cargo door’s rope and pulley system, still broken from the recent gorilla incident. “Where did he go? We have to get the door fixed. We won’t survive long if we don’t get it closed.”

“To the market for more grapes. It seems that those odd cat-like creatures” Noah encircled each of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger “the big-eyed ones that came from the South yesterday, are quite fond of them. And I wanted more grapes anyway for seed harvesting. When the flood ends, I want to plant a vineyard and ” The popping noise of cart wheels on pebbles interrupted him.

“Speak of the devil,” Japheth whispered to Shem. “Our brother has arrived.”

“And check out his two minions,” Shem whispered back. “They look . . . well . . . unnatural.”

Japheth scanned the ox-drawn cart, filled to overflowing with bunches of purple and green grapes. Sitting at the back with their bare feet hanging near the path, two women dressed in black glanced all around, their lips thin and taut.

When the ox halted, the shorter woman jumped off and quickly smoothed out her dress, pulling and tugging to cover as much skin as she could. Ham, his muscles flexing as he strained on the ox’s harness, cast a glance at his father and nodded, then turned to unload the grapes. “I have done as you asked, Father,” he said, keeping his eyes on the cart. “I have taken a wife. Her name is Naamah, Tubalcain’s sister.”

“Tubalcain?” Noah’s teeth clenched, his face reddening. “You married in the line of Cain? Why would you bring such shame upon our family?”

Ham carried a load of grapes and stopped in front of his father, his face expressionless. “You said to find a wife for procreating. You didn’t ask to approve her genealogy.” He hoisted the grapes higher in his arms and lumbered toward the boat, calling without looking back. “We met the other woman at the marketplace. She seeks an audience with you.”

Naamah grabbed as many grape clusters as she could and followed Ham, glancing briefly at the other female passenger before scurrying to catch up. She and Ham balanced their loads across the sapling bridge and disappeared through Adam’s door.

The other woman stepped down and shuffled toward Noah, carrying a sheathed sword in her extended arms. Tear tracks stained her face. When she drew near, she dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “I come in the name of Elohim,” she said softly. “I am Morgan, and I seek shelter from the coming flood. I have heard of your mercy, that you would never turn away a repentant soul. I beg you to take me in, for I am a poor sinner in search of salvation.”

Japheth nudged Shem’s ribs and whispered, “We could use another hand behind the shovel, if you know what I mean.”

Shem kicked Japheth’s ankle. “Shhh! I want to listen.”

Lowering her body even further, Morgan laid the sword at Noah’s feet and pressed her palms flat on the ground, her voice faltering as she wept. “An angel . . . gave me this sword to offer as my price of passage. He said to . . . to tell you that he used it to guard the Tree of Life, and it will . . . it will serve you well as a shield for the ark.”

Noah picked up the sword and pulled it from its sheath. The blade flashed with light, and he gazed at it in wonder. “Amazing! It is Chereb, the sword of Eden!”

Shem stepped between Noah and the prostrate woman. “Father, you can’t seriously be considering this. Elohim said nothing about last-minute supplicants.” He waved his hand toward Morgan. “Besides, where was she during all the years we were building our refuge?”

“True enough, my son, but mercy covers both those who arrive early and those who arrive crying out with their last breath.” Noah slid the sword back into its sheath. “Did God say I am not allowed to take a refugee who has paid for her passage with the sword of Eden and with tears of repentance?”

“He said he found only you to be righteous.” Shem extended a finger at Morgan. “Not her.”

Noah knelt and placed a hand on the woman’s head. “Shem, are you my son? How can you be such a merciless judge?”

Shem kicked at a tuft of wiry grass and sighed. “I know I don’t deserve to go with you. If not for being your son, I would soon be food for sharks. But I’m not any kind of judge. I’m just imploring you to heed God’s word. If you don’t, we could all be lost.”

Noah straightened, nodding slowly. “Well spoken. But what of the sword and the angel’s message?”

“Sword or no sword, should you heed a secondhand account of an angel, when we know fallen angels roam the earth? Shouldn’t you obey the words God breathed directly into your ears?”

Noah laid the sword back down near Morgan’s hands. “Maybe we can ”

A loud shriek pierced the skies. A shining creature with coal black wings swooped over their heads. Two dragons followed side by side, shooting jets of flaming gas and bursting through their own wall of fire as they gave chase. Morgan jumped to her feet but kept her face toward the ground.

“A Watcher!” Japheth yelled. “Everyone to the ark!” He dashed across the bridge to the deck and latched on to both fastening ropes. “Hurry! I’ll keep it steady.”

“It’s Samyaza!” Noah shouted at the larger of the two dragons. “Makaidos! Beware of his eyes!”

Shem grabbed Noah’s elbow and hustled him toward the bridge. Morgan followed, the sword at her side and her chin against her chest.

Japheth flexed his muscles, fighting against the jerking ropes, but when Morgan tramped onto the bridge, he almost lost his grip. He cringed, grinding his teeth in pain. Should he stop her? Father had not said for sure. But with danger all around, how could he leave her behind?

As Noah and Shem neared the ark, the shining creature landed on the deck, grabbed Japheth, and dragged him away from the bridge, locked in a vicious clench. Japheth pushed against the creature’s huge, glowing arms, but they clamped down, squeezing his breath away. Shem turned around and hustled his father off the swaying bridge, nearly knocking Morgan over on his way back to solid ground. Morgan followed them to safety.

The two dragons stormed down to the boat, both bodies thumping the deck in awkward crash landings. Their claws scratched deep lines in the gopher wood planks as they scrambled to right themselves. Japheth fell lower in the demon’s grip, still trapped, but at least he could breathe.

Makaidos roared. “Fight us in the sky, you coward! Are you a Watcher or a washwoman?”

The Watcher laughed. “Who is a washwoman, the outnumbered angel, or the lizard who sputters brave words when a female is guarding his flank?”

Makaidos glanced at Thigocia and spewed black smoke from both nostrils. “I am not afraid to fight you. You have my word that Thigocia will stay on this deck.”

“But, Makaidos!” Thigocia said, slapping her tail on the planks, “we have been trained to fight together!”

Makaidos spat a ball of sparks that fizzled in the wet air. “Samyaza is just Lucifer’s marionette. A little fire will scorch his puppet strings, and he will die, just like the Naphil.”

Japheth tried to slip lower, but Samyaza hoisted him up to his massive chest and squeezed again. Japheth gasped. A popping noise sounded and stabbing pain ripped across his ribs.

Samyaza croaked, “At least this dragon speaks more bravely than his father did. Arramos whimpered pitifully before I killed him a few minutes ago.”

Makaidos’s scales flushed to a solid crimson. “You are a liar!”

“True,” Samyaza said, nodding. “I am a liar when it suits my purposes, but I have no reason to lie about my conquests. Arramos whimpered for mercy like a beaten dog.”

“Makaidos,” Thigocia hissed, “do not listen to him. He twists words. He even lies about when he lies. Arramos is alive. I know he is.”

Makaidos growled a whisper at Thigocia. “Whether he is alive or not, I need you to stay here and guard the refuge boat! Will you do it?”

Thigocia closed her eyes, her words barely audible. “If that is your will.”

Makaidos whipped his neck back toward Samyaza. “Just let the human go. No matter how you demons fracture your promises, a dragon’s covenant is never broken. I will fight you alone!”

“And if I refuse?” Samyaza replied, his brow lifting. “I could easily wait for the other Watchers to arrive. I have already signaled for them.”

Japheth thrust his body upward just enough to push out a gasping shout. “Torch the devil!” he yelled. “I would rather die as this ark’s signal beacon than allow it to fail!”

The demon slapped his hand over Japheth’s mouth. He grimaced at the stench as pain pierced his lungs.

Makaidos nodded solemnly at Japheth. “You have your answer, Samyaza. If you refuse, Thigocia and I will grant the human’s wish. You will become this boat’s signal torch.”

Japheth bit Samyaza’s broom-handle-sized finger. The demon slammed him to the deck and shook his massive hand in pain. With his ribs in agony, Japheth sat up, and as he clutched his sides, his gaze landed on Samyaza’s wounded hand. Were there five fingers and a thumb? Was the legend really true?

With a flurry of black wings, Samyaza burst into the sky. “Come then, lizard! If you really dare!”

Makaidos rolled an egg-shaped orb toward Japheth. “Keep the Ovulum safe. It belonged to the Oracle.” He then shot upward in pursuit of the demon.

Japheth picked up the Ovulum and struggled to his feet, pushing against the pummeling draft of the dragon’s wings. Stumbling to the bridge, he shoved the orb into his tunic and grabbed the ropes again, steadying the sway while Shem hurried their father across. His aching ribs screamed in agony, but he held on while Shem and Noah hustled past him and ducked through Adam’s Door.

Morgan, wrapping her arms around herself and the sword, tiptoed onto the bridge again. Japheth rolled his eyes. Now what? He couldn’t untie the bridge; she would fall to her death. And there was no one left to ask about her no human, that is.

He yanked on the rope, shaking the bridge. Morgan dropped to her knees and grasped the side with one hand, hanging on to the sword with the other.

“Stay there!” Japheth yelled. He spun to Thigocia. “Have you ever seen this woman before?”

Thigocia’s eyebeams danced across the low clouds as the rain steadily worsened. Roars and rumbles sounded from above, and flashes of light painted the foggy sky. Finally, she stretched her neck over the side of the ark. “Her face is familiar.” She squinted, her forked tongue darting in and out. “Hmmm.”

Japheth shook the bridge again, keeping Morgan on her knees. “Well?” he asked, pain still gripping his ribs.

Thigocia nodded. “I think I know who she is, but I cannot leave the boat, so . . .” She raised her head high and roared, “Samyaza! We have a hostage who is very dear to you!”

Japheth waited, glancing back and forth between the sky and Morgan. She lay prostrate, clenching the side of the bridge with her long white fingers. The flashes in the sky suddenly ceased. Seconds later, an ear-splitting screech sounded from above. Samyaza glided toward the ground clutching a limp dragon by the neck in one of his powerful hands. Black resin dripped from Makaidos’s face. He blinked weakly, his eyes glazed and his scales fading.

Thigocia stretched out her wings. “Makaidos!”

Samyaza landed on the opposite side of the bridge next to a sycamore and planted his bear-like feet. “Stay where you are,” he shouted, pointing at Thigocia, “or the lizard dies!”

“If he dies,” Thigocia roared, “then you will be a pile of charcoal at his side!”

Samyaza laughed. “More blustery hot air from a weak fire-breather.” He turned his gaze to Morgan, still prostrate on the bridge. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

With the sword pressed under her feet, Morgan stood slowly, spreading her arms to keep her balance. She rubbed her palms together as rain plastered her raven locks to her face. “Samyaza, my love. I am here to do your bidding. Did I not tell you that I would seek passage on this ridiculous boat and sabotage their mission?”

Japheth fumed. That witch had to die! He let go of the ropes and picked at the wet knot that fastened the bridge to a post on the ark’s parapet, pulling away thread after thread.

Thigocia spewed a twisting line of fire that snaked between Morgan and Japheth. She growled her words. “Give me Makaidos or my next breath turns your wife into a tallow candle!”

Samyaza waved a hand at Morgan. “Do you think I cannot find another dark-hearted wench to do my bidding? Go ahead and lick her with fire from head to toe. I’m not giving up my scaly prize so easily.”

Japheth gouged out a thick strand, loosening the knot. In just seconds, the bridge would collapse.

Morgan picked up the sword and inched her way toward the land side of the bridge. “Samyaza!” she shouted through the windswept rain. “I have learned the secret of the sword’s fire. If I burn, the secret dies with me.”

Japheth pressed his lips together and gave the knot a final pull. “Got it!” The rope slipped away from the ark. One edge of the bridge gave way, and Morgan tipped toward the trench. In a flash of light and black wings, Samyaza dropped Makaidos and caught Morgan in his massive arms. The demon landed next to the tree again, his body glowing red as he snatched the sword from his wife.

Morgan placed her palms on Samyaza’s cheeks, and her hands lit up like a pair of fiery tongs. The demon’s scarlet glow seemed to radiate into Morgan’s body as though he were bleeding into her fingertips. When he faded to a pale pink, Morgan released him, her own reddish tint seeming to energize her as Samyaza’s wobbling frame slowly shrank.

As the demon set her on the ground, Morgan’s skin returned to normal. She stood straight and set her fists on her hips, while Samyaza looked at her stupidly.

Japheth whispered to Thigocia. “The battle’s over! Get him! And get that sword, too. It must be a powerful weapon.”

Thigocia leaped over the side of the ark, her wings instantly whipping her body into a scaly, fire-blasting rocket. Dodging a sycamore tree, she blew a scorching wave of flames that flew inches above the demon’s head. She snatched the sword out of his hands with her teeth and slapped his face with her tail as she zoomed past.

Samyaza’s eyes darkened to pitch black. He toppled over, knocking Morgan down and pinning her. Thigocia arched in a wide circle, swinging around for another attack.

A loud roar sounded from above. Ten Watchers swooped toward the ground. One dragon after another darted out of the clouds, at least eight fire-breathers zooming in single-file pursuit of the demons.

Japheth clutched his ribs. All-out war was upon them, the great flood was at hand, and he could barely move! What could he possibly do to stop this catastrophe?

Feeling the bulge in his tunic, he pulled out Methuselah’s Ovulum. Maybe it could help. It had power of some kind. But what?