chapter 4
THE PRISM ORACLE
Thigocia kept her eyes trained on the red dragon in front of her, the creature calling himself Arramos. Staying above the clouds, they had flown rapidly for over an hour, faster than she had traveled since before her days as a human. To this point, her questions about their destination and time of arrival had been answered with, “You will soon learn,” giving her good reason to believe what her sense of danger continued to blare—trouble lay ahead.
Arramos finally slowed and flew side by side with Thigocia. As their wing tips nearly brushed each other in their synchronized downstrokes, he blew a short burst of fire. “I must now use my flames to create a hole in the dimensional fabric that will take us to your mate’s dwelling place.”
Trying to keep her distance from the larger dragon, Thigocia descended a few feet and skimmed the tops of the clouds. “You said we would find Roxil and search for Makaidos with her.”
“We shall. First we are going to the Bridgelands, the place where I believe him to be. Although I have scoured many of the fields and forests of that land, I have not been able to locate him. But the place is so large, it is impossible for one dragon to complete a search, especially since he could be on the move.” He dropped down to Thigocia’s level and flew close again. “Perhaps with your help and Roxil’s, I can find him. Before we contact Roxil, however, I want to show you what is occurring in the Bridgelands so you will better understand our mission.”
Thigocia set her gaze straight ahead. “Very well. Lead on.”
Shooting another stream of fire, Arramos wheeled to the left, keeping a sharp angle as he traced a tight circle and aimed his flaming jets at a center point. As the fire stretched downward into a tornadic funnel, Thigocia kept pace with him, her own wings fanning and twisting the flames.
Arramos flew faster and faster. Thigocia strained to keep up. The flaming tornado grew wider, hotter, brighter, slurping the clouds as it twisted. Soon, at the focal point at the top of the spin, the sky ripped open, a small hole at first, but as the cyclone expanded, the surrounding air crumbled into the hole, widening it into a black chasm.
“Follow me!” Arramos ordered. He dove into the dark void.
Thigocia flew around the flames, slowing her speed. Should she follow? Was it mad to dive into the unknown, trailing a mysterious, sadistic dragon that kept her danger alarm trumpeting? As she slowed, the hole began to contract, so she beat her wings faster, trying to keep the chasm entry open. What choice did she have? She said she would follow, and, besides, she didn’t even know where she was or how to get back to Ashley. It would be unthinkable to give up on this mystery now.
Taking a deep draw from the sun above, she steered into the blackness. Instantly, the air supporting her wings vanished, and she floated in a vacuum, yet she still sensed forward movement at a dizzying rate of speed. After what seemed like several minutes, air began to fill her nostrils and billow under her wings. Light also returned, dim at first, but soon, a field of grass appeared below and a red dragon standing near a pool of water.
She descended in a wide circle, scanning the area for any movement, but Arramos remained the only sign of life. Purple flowers dotted the field, raising a sweet aroma, but with her danger alarm still pricking her brain, this was no time to savor any simple pleasures.
When she fanned her wings out to land, Arramos thumped the ground with his tail. “I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to renege.”
Thigocia settled her claws in the soft grass skirting the pool and collapsed her wings. “Yet you waited.”
“It was a mere passing thought. I have not so soon forgotten your integrity.”
Thigocia dug her claws deeper into the turf. “It is sad that you have forgotten your own.”
“A sharp tongue is unbecoming of a dragon queen, but I will overlook your indiscretion. Your fighting spirit will be of great benefit.”
“I will not argue the point.” She scowled, twitching her ears for emphasis. “Just get on with it.”
“Very well.” Arramos brushed the ground with the tip of a wing. “We are in the Bridgelands, a connecting byway between Earth and Heaven as well as between Heaven and Hades. It is likely impossible to conceive with finite minds like ours, but you might think of it like this.” He dipped a claw into the pool. Black ripples scattered from the entry point, creating a dark expanse across the surface. “I brought you here so that you could see the plans of God and men. Many pools in the Bridgelands reflect invisible realities, but this one reveals the structure of the dimensional cosmos.”
A Saturn-like shape appeared on the pool’s dark canopy, but instead of rings around a planet, a large flat disc surrounded a smaller, nebulous white orb. Three tiny moons adhered to the outer edge of the disc as it revolved slowly around the orb. “The center sphere is Heaven, a realm that contains the holy city, the angels, and the saints. The wider disc around Heaven is where we stand now—the Bridgelands, a flat territory that connects Heaven to Earth and Hades, which are represented by those two smaller spheres on the edge of the disc. At one time, Dragons’ Rest was also a sphere on the edge, but it no longer exists.”
He set the tip of his wing near two of the outer spheres. “As you can see, Earth and Hades are very close to each other right now, dangerously close. The wall of separation between them is fragile and ready to collapse.” He touched the pool again, and blackness swallowed the image.
“I saw a third sphere on the edge,” Thigocia said, “on the opposite side of Heaven from the Earth. What was it?”
“Another world. I have never been there, but Enoch told me it is uninhabited. It may eventually be part of the Maker’s grand purpose, but I am not privileged to know.”
“So is Makaidos somewhere on the disc?” Thigocia asked. “The flat part?”
“He cannot be anywhere else. I have checked the Prism Oracle myself, and he has not entered either Heaven or Hades, and he is no longer on Earth.”
Thigocia twitched her ears. “The Prism Oracle? Is that some sort of list of who is where?”
“Not really a list—a query. Access to this information is no secret in the realms of the dead, at least to those who know where to look.” Arramos unfurled his wings. “Come. I will show you.”
As he lifted into the air, Thigocia followed, staying close enough to listen to any further explanations but far enough back to watch from a safe distance. Clear skies allowed for brisk flying and easy scanning of everything on the ground. Beautiful meadows and forests abounded, with bubbling streams and clear pools nourishing the landscape for miles and miles. The male dragon descended and glided over a stream, casting his red eyebeams over its muddy shoulder. “Look closely, and you will see human footprints—fresh, not more than three days old.”
Thigocia scanned the mud with her own eyebeams. “I see them. Two different sizes. What does it mean?”
“It proves that the Maker has placed humans here, though I have not seen any besides one I will tell you about in a few moments. Perhaps my son is also here in his human form, and he has found a companion.”
She flicked off her beams. “A companion?”
“It is only a guess. He might also be alone somewhere else. For all I know, this pair of inhabitants could have human feet and the head of an ostrich. In any case, they hide well. And considering that we are likely a fearful sight to them, their scarcity in the open is no wonder.” Arramos ascended again and flew on.
Thigocia beat her wings and caught up. “May we come back to this place and search?”
“We shall see. I have to make sure we meet Roxil on time.”
After passing over a hilly plane that stretched from horizon to horizon, they plunged into a deep canyon where a raging river careened around a bend. After it straightened farther down its path, it hurtled into a steep ravine and splashed against a pair of huge boulders, sending up billowing clouds of mist.
The boulders diverted the river to one side but allowed a stream of water to feed a shallow pool on the opposite side where Arramos and Thigocia stood. As the river beat against the stone obstacles, water flew over the tops and drizzled in front of the dragons. Light sparkled in the prismatic droplets and painted a strange, full-circle rainbow—a halo with seven color bands that hovered in the midst of the spray.
“This is the Prism Oracle,” Arramos shouted, competing with the roar of splashing water. “The concept is quite simple, though I have no idea why it works. While gazing at the oracle, you walk into these shallows and speak a name. Because of your touch, the oracle knows the identity of the one about whom you are inquiring, and the colors merge to create his or her image. The appearance of the image tells us where the person is.”
Thigocia peered at the marblelike boulders framing the halo and returned his shout. “How did you figure out the purpose of this oracle? I see no signs or symbols to explain it.”
“What do you remember about Enoch?” he asked.
“In his battles with the Watchers, he proved himself a prophet of the highest order.” Thigocia looked up at the sky, allowing the droplets to drizzle into her eyes. Their touch was cool and soothing. “I was very young when he left the Earth,” she continued, still speaking loudly, “but the impression he left on me will last forever. I revere him and Merlin as the two greatest prophets I have ever known.”
“Then you will have no problem with trusting this oracle, for Enoch himself established it. During one of my searches here, he hailed me as I flew over. When I landed, I recognized him immediately, and my heart leaped for joy at finding my long-lost friend. He already knew why I was here and showed me how the oracle could provide the insight I needed, the proof that my search in the Bridgelands was not in vain.”
“What else did he say? Had he seen Makaidos?”
Arramos shook his head. “As human prophets often are, he was mysterious, and he said very little. After he explained the oracle to me, he seemed to melt into the river and flow away.”
Thigocia moved her head closer to him, searching for a hint of deception in his eyes. “That story has the ring of myth. Who would ever believe such a tale?”
“Believe what you wish.” He nodded at the calm pool at the edge of the splashing water. “But if you try it, you will know that I could not have conjured what you will see with your own eyes. Say the name of someone you believe to be in Heaven, then one in Hades, and then one on the Earth. You need not shout, as I am doing. The oracle will hear you.”
Thigocia stepped into the water and stared at the splashing chaos. How could a river striking a pair of boulders create an oracle that could see through the veils of the afterlife and show them to anyone who might ask? It made no sense. Still, the prophets had spoken of miracles just as strange, a donkey speaking to a mad prophet, and a voice in a burning bush commanding Moses to free the Hebrews in Egypt. Could the Maker also prepare such an oracle in this strange land? Who could deny his ability to do this miracle as well?
After thinking for a moment, Thigocia took a step closer and said, “Noah.”
The colored bands broke away from the halo and mixed in the center. Then, as if painted by an invisible brush, a man appeared, the image of Noah at the age he had been while on the ark, the time when she knew him best. Backed by a golden sky and wearing a dazzling white robe and a crown of gold, he smiled, then faded as the colors streamed back to the edge and re-formed the halo.
Arramos raised his voice again. “He is in Heaven. According to Enoch, white and gold are the colors of Paradise, and the crown proves that the Maker has forgiven his many sins.”
Thigocia glared at Arramos but decided not to challenge his criticism of the great ark builder. The task at hand was too important to allow for delay. She thought for another moment and said, “Ham.”
The colors once again painted the image of a man, this time the son of Noah standing in front of an orange background, wearing a tattered orange tunic that barely fell past his hips and covered his loins. A black execution hood rested on his head as if placed there in preparation for the gallows but not yet pulled down over his face.
“He is in Hades,” Arramos said. “Orange and black are the colors of destruction, and the hood is the symbol of all who will someday be cast into the Lake of Fire.”
“Now someone on Earth,” Thigocia said quietly. With a sad tremble in her voice, she whispered, “Ashley.”
Within seconds, a perfect duplicate of Ashley stood within the mist. Dressed in jeans and a gray Montana-emblazoned sweatshirt, she carried a walking stick and hiked in place in front of a blue sky, moving but never leaving the oracle.
“She carries the symbol of one still on a journey,” Arramos explained. “Whenever the oracle displays an Earth-dweller, he or she is always walking, for their path is not yet complete. Since you knew Enoch, you may speak his name. As one who never died, he has not yet established his abode, for he is God’s dimensional itinerant.”
Thigocia spoke the prophet’s name. The oracle echoed his image, showing Enoch as an old man dressed in the style of his pre-flood days, a flowing brown tunic tied at the waist and leather sandals on his feet. He stood in front of complete blackness, without crown, hood, or walking stick.
“He seems to be floating in space,” Thigocia said, shouting once again. “There are no colors or clothing that reveal his location.”
“Exactly. Enoch told me that souls who are not in Heaven, Earth, or Hades would appear in this manner. He dwells in the lower altar inside Heaven’s gate. Since he never died, he is not a resident there and is allowed to visit other realms.” Arramos nodded toward the splashing water. “Speak the name of your mate—my son—and you will see why my search here continues.”
She looked back at him. “Shall I say his dragon name or his human name?”
“Either one. The oracle will know.”
Thigocia took another step closer and said, “Makaidos.”
The banded colors once again painted a portrait, this time of a man who, much like Enoch, stood against a black background. He was dressed in beige slacks and a navy blue sweater, the same clothes he wore the night Devin and Palin destroyed their home and their lives.
“No crown,” Arramos shouted. “No hood or walking stick. He, too, is neither on Earth nor in one of the afterlife destinations, so I believe he must be here in the Bridgelands.”
As the image faded away, Thigocia heaved a deep breath and stepped out of the pool. The two dragons backed away to a quiet bend in the river where they could talk without shouting. “But why was Makaidos left here? If anyone had faith in the Messiah, it was he.”
Arramos draped a wing over her neck. She flinched but stayed in place. “I cannot answer that question fully,” he said. “Makaidos was unique. He died as a dragon but later left Dragons’ Rest, his natural eternal abode. He was then born into the human race as an adult, the only one with faith in the Messiah already established, so he never aged, and qualified to avoid the curse of natural death.” As he pulled his wing back, his eyes sparkled like polished rubies.
Thigocia swished her tail through the water. She wanted to ask about her own destiny, seeing that she was the only dragon resurrected from the circles to remain a dragon, but it was best for now to keep to the task at hand, finding her mate. “But if Makaidos had faith, he should have gone to Heaven.”
“That part is a mystery to me. I have no answer, only my theory that he was given a unique destination when he was murdered. The oracle says that he is neither in Heaven nor in Hades, so on that we must rely. Soon, you will have an opportunity to question Sapphira, the Oracle of Fire. She can verify that Merlin confirmed this, for he, too, has queried the oracle.”
Thigocia bowed her head. “Up until this point, I had thought you a liar, but your story no longer bears the marks of a lie.” She gazed again at the boulders, now veiled by mist in the distance. “And this oracle seems to have no prejudice; it shows neither pessimism nor false hopes.”
“Yet you still have doubts.” Arramos reached his wing toward her again. “Why?”
“You have to ask?” Thigocia ducked under his wing and backed away, scowling. “Your treatment of Karen was cruel coercion. You stabbed us all with fear.”
Arramos whipped his wing back. “It was the only way to convince you, but it was not cruel, for the child was never in danger as long as you were willing to yield to my God-given authority as king of the dragons.” He extended his neck and looked her in the eye. “You must admit that I tried with gentler methods.”
She jerked her head lower, avoiding his stare. “I admit it, but I reserve the right to continue doubting. A position of authority never gives license to cruelty.”
“As you wish. But when the time comes for battle, you must put your doubts aside.”
“Battle?” She looked up at him. “What battle?”
“The danger I told you about. I am sure you remember King Nimrod’s tower and how Roxil and I helped Makaidos knock it down.”
“I remember.”
“Another tower, far more dangerous and cunning, will soon pierce the skies. This one, constructed by Mardon, the son of Nimrod, threatens the very fabric of the cosmos. It has already brought Earth and Hades on a collision course, and if it is completed, it will destroy the Bridgelands and everyone in it, including Makaidos. There is nothing we can do to prevent the first collision, but we can stop the merging of Earth and Heaven and save the life of your mate … my son.”
Smoke spewed from Thigocia’s nostrils. “So our battle is against Mardon.”
“Yes. When I take you to Roxil, the three of us will create a firestorm to stop the madness as we dragons did in the days of old. At that point, you will have to put aside doubt and trust me, for you will be sorely tempted to change your mind.”
“I am sorely tempted now to reject your command.” Thigocia flashed her eyebeams at him, bouncing them off his snout. “You have never explained how you survived the great flood. God declared through Noah that all flesh died except for those on the ark.”
Arramos turned on his own eyebeams, intersecting hers. “Noah wanted it to appear as if he was the only righteous one on Earth. All of his progeny and all creatures great and small would then be indebted to him for eternity. The fact is that the flood washed away the Watchers and Nephilim who had attacked me, and Michael the archangel carried me here to the Bridgelands until it was time for me to return. He taught me how to open the barriers between the dimensions so I could explore every realm.” Arramos moved his head directly in front of Thigocia’s. His eyes flashed, and his beams brightened. “The truth is really quite simple. Noah lied.”
Thigocia growled and spewed a line of fire between her and Arramos that charred the rocky sand at their feet. “I cannot accept that. Noah was a righteous man.”
Arramos stepped across the line. “And on this shaky foundation you and I must do battle. Makaidos had great faith in mankind—in Noah’s word and in the ideal of dragons serving men—but when man became corrupted, the ideal passed away. You have to admit that their behavior does not shed a kind light on man’s character. Even righteous Noah became drunk and exposed himself, so none of them can be trusted. I intend to invoke the Maker’s wrath upon these vermin and prevent the destruction of the Bridgelands.” He scraped his claws across the sand, obliterating the line. “I must protect my son at all costs!”
Thigocia turned away and gazed into the sky. “I am not ready to believe what you say about Noah, but I will help you destroy the tower. Earthbound man is not ready to ascend into Heaven. That much I know.”
“That is enough for me. Come. We will conduct a brief search for Makaidos, then we must find Roxil.”
She kept her gaze fixed above. “Please wait for me at the top of the ridge. I want to see the image of my mate one more time in private.”
“It is a mere rainbow you see, but I understand. If, however, you want more time to search for him in reality, you must hurry.” Arramos reared up on his haunches and rose into the air, skimming the river as he shot up the falls before disappearing.
Thigocia beat her wings and skittered across the shoals to the oracle’s pool. After stepping into it, she said, “Makaidos.” The image of her human husband again appeared in the spray. She studied it for a moment, trying to memorize every detail. Just before the portrait scattered, she noticed the rubellite ring on his finger. It carried a white gem.
After glancing at the ridge for a brief second, she turned back to the oracle and whispered so softly she could barely hear her own voice. “Arramos.”
The seven colored ribbons painted a new portrait, another human male standing in blackness without a walking stick. This middle-aged man was dressed like Enoch, the tunic and sandals identifying him as an ordinary citizen from the pre-flood days. She took a step closer and looked at the ring on his finger. A white gem graced the shiny gold band.
Thigocia floundered backwards. Flapping her wings again, she righted herself and made her way back to higher ground. What could it all mean? Why was Arramos a human in the oracle and a dragon on Earth? Something was wrong, very wrong.
She launched into the air and hurried to meet the dragon she still doubted, now even more than ever.