Eye of the Oracle

  Sapphira patted her on the head. “Good girl.” She let out a long sigh. “But will anyone else believe us?”

  In the darkness of the hovel, Sapphira slurped stew from a ladle. “Ahhh!” she said, handing the dipper to Paili.

  “Good?” Paili asked.

  “Excellent!” Sapphira wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then jerked her arm down. “Oops. I shouldn’t have done that. Now there’s stew on my tunic.”

  “No one come to eat,” Paili said.

  Sapphira nodded slowly. “I know. Not even Taalah. I guess they all ate that fruit.”

  Paili pointed at a light in the mouse hole. “Qatan have lantern?”

  Sapphira pressed a finger to her lips and slid down to the floor. “Elam?” she whispered, “Are you there?”

  “Yes,” came the quiet voice.

  She put her lips near the hole, hoping a whisper could make it through. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No. I don’t eat until Nabal’s finished. I get whatever he leaves behind. I don’t know if I’ll get anything tonight, though. I haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

  Sapphira drummed her fingers on the floor. “Listen. Even if they do feed you, don’t eat the stew. Morgan made Paili put something bad in it, some kind of poisoned fruit.”

  “Maybe it was fruit from the tree in her room.”

  “No. It was from the tower museum. It’s growing in the middle of ” Sapphira paused, furrowing her brow. “Did you say, ‘Morgan’s room’?”

  “Yes. I saw a little tree growing there with blossoms and fruit. She’s using our magneto bricks to give it light.”

  “She let you into her room!? That’s the most forbidden area of all!”

  “She summoned me, so I had to go.”

  “What did her fruit look like? The bad stuff is red and kind of oblong.”

  “I’m pretty sure it was white. As soon as I heard what she wanted, I told her I wouldn’t do it and walked out, so I didn’t get a real good look at it.”

  “What did she want?”

  “For me to do some of her dirty work, but it’s not worth talking about. Besides, I’m in big enough trouble already. Nabal killed the other brick maker, a boy named Raphah, the day after he was called to Morgan’s room. Raphah never told me why he was called, but I think he refused Morgan, too.”

  “If Nabal’s gone, he can’t whip you to death.”

  “True, but there’s always the chasm.”

  Sapphira nodded. “How could I forget?”

  “I’m going to sneak back to her room and see if I can get some of that fruit.”

  “No!” she hissed. “If she catches you, she’ll kill you for sure!”

  “No, she won’t. Before I refused her, she offered me some fruit to . . . well, bribe me, I guess. I’ll just say I’m coming back to collect it.”

  Sapphira shook her head. “She won’t believe that excuse. She’s not stupid.”

  “I know, but the tree isn’t the real reason I want to go. While I’m there, maybe I can find something that’ll help me get out of this place.”

  Sapphira tightened her hand into a fist. Who was she to try to keep the poor guy in this awful prison? Her voice spiked with compassion. “Just don’t get caught, okay?”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Hey! Paili made some stew that’s okay to eat, and I have quite a bit. Want some?”

  “Sure, but how?”

  Sapphira glanced around the dim hovel. What could she use to channel stew through such a small hole? Finding nothing, she dipped her fingertip into the lukewarm liquid. A smile broke through. “Uh . . . Elam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you heard how the spawns eat when they’re in the growth chambers?”

  “Uh-huh. I think so.”

  She plunged her whole hand into the stew. “Do you mind being a spawn for a few minutes?”

  “I . . . I guess not.”

  Sapphira pulled her dripping fingers from the pot and squeezed her hand through the hole, pushing as hard as she could. When it wouldn’t go any farther, she waited. After a few seconds, a wet, tickling sensation brushed her fingertips. Imagining Elam on the other side, she suppressed a giggle, a feeling of warm satisfaction flooding her body.

  She pushed through six finger-loads of stew, trying to handle more with each attempt, but during the sixth feeding, a stern voice penetrated their hovel.

  “Mara!”

  Sapphira whispered, “It’s Morgan!” Using her foot, she slid the stew pot behind Paili and yanked her hand through the hole. Quickly wiping the remaining stew on the back of her tunic, she stood in front of Paili.

  A lantern lit up their hovel, and Morgan’s face appeared in the dugout entry as she leaned in from the corridor. “Mara. You must come with me.”

  Sapphira didn’t even glance back at Paili. She just hoped the lantern’s light couldn’t reach behind the girl’s body. “Yes’m. I’m coming.” She tried to read Morgan’s expression. Could she have discovered their plot somehow?

  “What’s that smell?” Morgan asked, wrinkling her nose.

  Sapphira blocked Morgan’s view and raised her arm up near her mistress’s face. “Stew. I got some on my sleeve.”

  “Rather sloppy,” Morgan said, straightening to allow Sapphira to exit. “I expect better from you.”

  “Yes’m.” Sapphira followed Morgan, watching the lady’s long legs. It seemed strange that she always wore the same clothes, even at night. Most of the girls took off their outer dresses and slept wearing their inner tunics, while some who lived on the hot, lower level just took a sheet to bed, wrapping up in it later as the brick ovens cooled during the night. Morgan, however, seemed to be able to adjust to any temperature instantly.

  Morgan stopped at the control room. The door had been left ajar, so she pushed it open and walked in. Sapphira followed, and when her eyes adjusted to the brighter light, she noticed two men examining the jars on her worktable at the back of the room. The taller of the two seemed familiar, yet not quite recognizable. The other man looked tired and battle-worn, but she knew her supervisor right away.

  “Mardon!” she cried. “You’re back!” She ran toward him, but he held up his hand, halting her. The other man pushed Mardon to the side and slapped her savagely across her face with the back of his hand, knocking her to the floor. Black spots speckled her vision as she laid her hand on her throbbing cheek. Warm liquid trickled through her fingers. Blood.

  Too dizzy to rise, Sapphira lay on the cold stone, listening to the two men babbling in an odd language. With her cheek stinging as if on fire, she pushed up to her knees, and two strong, female hands helped her to her feet. Morgan’s voice interrupted the two babblers. “Stop fighting, you fools!”

  Through blurry vision Sapphira saw Mardon push the other man away, but she still couldn’t tell who he was. She caressed her wounded cheek, smearing blood across her fingers. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Morgan picked up a gray cloth from the table. “Oh, you won’t get an answer,” she said, dabbing Sapphira’s cheek. “It seems, Mara . . . Oh, excuse me. It’s Sapphira now, isn’t it? Well, I mentioned this to you before, but it seems that Mardon no longer understands us.” She handed Sapphira the cloth and set her fists on her hips. “He now speaks a crude language I have never heard before, a clucking, guttural language fit for poultry or swine.”

  Sapphira held the cloth over her wound and touched Mardon’s arm. “Thank you for trying to protect me, but I guess you can’t understand that, either, can you?”

  Mardon just stared at her, blinking.

  “No, he doesn’t.” Morgan waved her hand toward the other man. “His own father, the king, doesn’t understand him.”

  As the lantern light flickered on the king’s face, Sapphira finally recognized him. Though one cheek and his forehead were wrinkled with scar tissue, she remembered his deep brown eyes. “King Nimrod!” She dipped her head and c
urtsied, then looked up at him again, hoping her tears might draw some compassion. “I’m so sorry about that egg ” She covered her mouth with her fingers. “I forgot. He doesn’t understand, either.”

  “No,” Morgan said, “but apparently he remembers you all too well. What did the Ovulum do?”

  Nimrod slid a ring up and down his finger. Sapphira winced at the sight of the mounted jewel that had ripped her cheek. “The egg said some things I didn’t understand, and then dragons came and destroyed the tower. I guess he thought it was my fault.” She nodded toward the king. “Did a dragon burn his face?”

  “From what I can gather. He uses hand signals quite well, so I’m pretty sure a dragon was involved. He also draws pictures when he tries to communicate.”

  “Oh.” Mara folded her cloth in half and laid it on the table. “Well, I guess that helps.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I called you here. Because of your obvious intelligence, Naamah and I believe you are the one most capable of teaching these two brutes how to speak the original tongue again. In fact, with all the languages now being used in the upper world, Naamah and I also have much to learn. So, we will soon organize a language school, of sorts, and call upon your linguistic talents to make sure we are all proficient in the new tongues. Your first students, however, are Nimrod and Mardon. Even though they are men, they still have a reasonable supply of brainpower.”

  Sapphira shifted back and forth on her feet. “I will do whatever you request of me, of course, but may I also ask a question?”

  Morgan sighed. “If you must.”

  “Did they notice the tower museum when they came through the portal? Were they excited to see that it survived the dragon fire?”

  “They have not seen the museum.” Morgan picked up a piece of graphite and handed it to Sapphira. “There are other ways to enter the lower realms, my dear, but we can discuss that later. For now, we had better get to work on something completely different. We are going to advance your spawn to mobility training immediately.”

  A new rush of heat surged into Sapphira’s face. “How can he be ready for that? We haven’t even turned down the magnetic field to test his strength.”

  “We’ll start him off slowly,” Morgan said. “But since his stalk thickness is greater than any spawn we’ve ever had, I think he’ll be walking in less than a week.”

  “And then you’ll replicate him?”

  “Yes. We’ll create a whole new race of intelligent and strong giants, and your spawn will be the leader. But right now, he is bonded to you. He cannot be the general we need until you wean him off your emotional support and release him to Mardon.”

  Sapphira glanced at Yereq. He grinned at her. “How do I do that?” she asked.

  “I will teach him how to hate, and then you will make him hate you.”

  “Hate me? My spawn? I could never ”

  Morgan slapped her across her unwounded cheek. “You will do what I say, or else! One more word of defiance, and my next blow will find your other cheek.”

  Sapphira cupped her hand over her cut. As Morgan’s eyes flamed, Sapphira slowly backed away, nodding. “I’ll . . . I’ll do it.” Blood oozed onto her fingers, and a single drop fell to the floor. As soon as it touched, the stone seemed to sizzle. A tiny string of smoke rose past Sapphira’s knees. The string grew and slowly stretched out toward Nimrod, curling around his waist and then his neck.

  With a sudden jerk, the string tightened into a taut gray rope and pulled Nimrod to the ground. Sapphira leaped back. Nimrod screamed, frantically reaching out, grasping for anything within arm’s length. Mardon caught hold of his father’s hand, but the former king sank slowly into the floor as if a sponge were absorbing his melting body. Soon, only Nimrod’s terrified face and an outstretched arm remained, and Mardon finally had to let go. Within seconds, Nimrod was gone.

  Sapphira fell to her seat, gaping at a black spot on the stony floor. Mardon dropped to his knees and touched the spot with his fingertips, murmuring a soft lament in his strange tongue.

  Morgan glared at Sapphira, her jaw trembling with rage. “You have succeeded in cutting your teaching chore in half,” she growled. “If your careless use of your power also dispatches Mardon, Paili will feel my wrath.”

  Sapphira cupped her cheek again, staring at Morgan as she stalked out of the room.

  Morgan sat cross-legged at the edge of a deep pit, caressing a leather scabbard on the stone floor at her side. Next to the scabbard lay two gemstones the one Mara had taken from the inner wall of the abyss and a matching stone Morgan had plucked just minutes ago.

  As light streamed up from the darkness, Morgan waved her hands across the opening as if warming her fingers over a fire. Leaning closer and allowing the light to bathe her face, she spoke, her voice quavering slightly. “Samyaza. It is your wife, Lilith. If I have finally found you after all these years, I beg you to hear me and forgive my transgressions against you.”

  A loud growl sounded from the blackness, then a shout. “Lilith!” The angry cry echoed through the cavern.

  Morgan jerked her head back, wincing.

  Samyaza continued. “You black-hearted fiend! How dare you offer your sugar-coated words after betraying me with the very arts I taught you!”

  She leaned over the pit again. Her voice stayed calm. “It was not a betrayal, my love. If I had not drained some of your power, you would not only be trapped in the abyss, but I would be dead and therefore powerless to help you escape. Instead, I am alive, and I have come to plan your departure from this cursed place.”

  Samyaza remained quiet for a few seconds. Morgan smiled, knowing she had cooled his fiery anger. “Since I am but a wraith, I have no body for you to inhabit, so even if I could climb down there, you would not be able to ride back with me. And it’s possible that I could not make it back at all.”

  Samyaza’s voice returned, quieter, yet still firm. “I know you, Lilith. You have a plan. What is it?”

  “My plan has many complexities, but the ultimate goal is for you and I to rule the world. Of course, the only way to do that is to exterminate every dragon and create an army that will help us conquer our enemies.”

  “What is so complex about that?”

  “As long as dragons rule the skies, in your weakened condition, you would not be able to fight them.”

  Samyaza’s voice crackled with sarcasm. “Weakened, thanks to you.”

  “True, but, as I said, I was your only hope. Who else would wish to free you?”

  Another pause ensued, then a quiet, “Go on.”

  Morgan raised a pair of her long, slender fingers. “We are trying to build an army in two ways. The spirits of the Nephilim are still alive, and they are beginning to indwell the dragon race. They will be powerful allies in our war.”

  “But you said you wanted to exterminate every dragon. Why make them our allies?”

  “That’s where the plan gets complicated.” Morgan closed her fingers into a fist. “The Nephilim will make the dragon race virulent in the sight of humans, and I will personally incite war between the two species. To crown my achievements, I will raise up a champion who will ensure that every dragon will die.”

  “If every dragon dies, then what of our army?”

  Morgan lifted a pinch of soil and let it trickle back to the ground. “We are creating another army from the earth. We are genetically engineering a race of giants, hybrids from the seeds of angels.”

  “Farm-raised Nephilim? Ingenious.”

  “Thank you,” Morgan replied, waving her hands over the streams of light again. “I thought you would approve. The experimentation is tedious, but we have finally created a suitable combination, a fierce, intelligent giant who will be our model for all the others.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “The plants grow slowly, so it will take many years.”

  “Plants? They are not human?”

  “They are fully human. We sp
lice a photosynthetic gene into the human genome at the embryonic stage, allowing us to grow them from the earth. It makes them more self-sustaining, able to gather light and power from their environment. Since they have a full set of human genes, they eventually slough off their plant stems and grow into a completely human form.”

  “So once the dragons are gone and your army is in place, how will you release us?”

  Morgan paused and leaned closer, lowering her voice. “With Chereb.”

  Samyaza grunted a contemptuous laugh. “What good will my sword do in the hands of a sorceress?”

  Morgan patted down the streams of light as if trying to quell his skepticism. “I told you I learned the secret to its power.”

  “So will its power destroy this prison?”

  “I believe so, yet escape from the abyss might not be enough. We sit here now in the lower realms, thousands of feet of earth separating us from the skies above, but even up there we would be in one of the circles of Hades. There is no way I know for you to return to the dimension of the living. I am able to go there for a short time, because of my unusual status as a wraith, but I think that dimension would be closed to you.”

  “Then your plan is not complete,” Samyaza growled. “We are at a dead end.”

  “No. I have been listening to Elohim’s prophets in the world of the living. They say a king is coming who will open up the way of escape from this dimension. I will watch for this king and learn how he opens the gateway.”

  “What if this king is the only one with the power to make such an opening?”

  “Whatever is done once can be done again. If I have to, I will find another king who will pave the way. In the meantime, I must neutralize the force that Elohim has sent to destroy my plan.”

  “What force is that?”

  “The oracles of fire two girls we spawned here. They have extraordinary intelligence and insight. I killed one of them, so I think we are safe, but I want to make sure.”

  “So kill the other one and be done with her.”

  Morgan shook her head. “It’s not so easy. Whoever sheds their blood ends up dying. Even one of my stupid giants, a fool named Nabal, died before I could kill him myself. He whipped one of the oracles, and I found him dead in his hovel that very night. Something similar happened to a foolish king I know. A very powerful force protects that girl.”