Eye of the Oracle (48 page)

“For what?”

Acacia handed Sapphira a pair of jeans and kept another pair for herself. “For our journey to the sixth circle. Our skirts aren’t exactly suitable for tromping through snake-infested swamp water.”

“Right, but we don’t know how ”

“To get back. I know. A minor detail.” Acacia slipped her jeans on. “We’ll just create a new portal somewhere and see where it goes.”

Sapphira pulled up her own jeans. “But what if it’s dangerous? We can’t risk Shiloh’s life.”

“Easy.” Acacia pinched the snap closed. The faded jeans hung loosely on her narrow hips. “We’ll return by ourselves, and then, if it’s safe, we’ll go back to get her.”

“Okay.” Sapphira fastened her own baggy jeans, castaway pants from a beggars’ bin. “But in case we can’t get back,” she continued, tucking away the cross, “I want to bring her some food that’ll last a long time.” Sapphira ran to the museum and plucked one of the smallest white clusters from the branches, now plentiful in the midst of the lush greenery, some as large as a small melon. As she hustled to the portal, she carefully slipped the fruit into her jeans pocket.

“Do you think you can keep it dry in the swamp?”

“It won’t matter,” Sapphira said. “If she’s hungry enough, she’ll eat it.”

“I’ll be right back.” Acacia hurried to the museum and returned with a thick scroll tucked under her arm.

Sapphira pointed at it. “Is that for opening a portal or bashing snakes?”

“Both.” Acacia opened the scroll a few inches. “It’s one I’ve been saving for portal travel, but if it breaks on a snake’s head, I won’t mind. Besides, we have lots of modern books now.”

Sapphira took Acacia’s hand. “Let’s get going.”

The two oracles walked into the column. As usual, Sapphira’s vision sharpened, enabling her to distinguish the tiniest slivers of radiant energy as they swirled around her head. Fighting the sadness, she grasped a stream of light and pulled. Instantly, the cavern dissolved, and they zoomed upward. A heavy, wet wind buffeted their heads. Sapphira pulled out her cross and shouted through the gusts. “Ignite!” Wind-beaten flames covered the cross and sizzled in the moisture-laden air.

Suddenly, they blasted through the surface of the swamp. Flying upward within a spewing cylindrical geyser, Sapphira wriggled around to get her bearings. The swamp lay about twenty feet below, and she and Acacia were still soaring higher, though their acceleration seemed to be slowing.

Acacia readied her scroll. “Flying is pretty cool,” she said with a deadpan tone, “but I think we’re going to fall now.”

The two girls linked arms and plummeted toward the water. Sapphira pointed her cross downward and shouted, “Give me all you’ve got!”

A narrow fountain of flames roared from the cross and sizzled into the swamp, creating a thrust that slowed their plunge. Erupting from the water’s surface, a dense column of steam struck Sapphira’s buttocks, soaking her jeans with scalding moisture.

Sapphira and Acacia splashed into the swamp and immediately lunged toward shore through its scummy, waist-deep water. “Hurry!” Sapphira yelled, holding her still-flaming cross high.

Acacia trudged at her side with the scroll clenched in her fist. Behind them, the water began to stir. Serpentine scales broke the surface and glinted in the sunlight.

Sapphira slogged through the muddy bottom. Every step seemed an eternity as they waded to thigh-deep, then knee-deep water. Finally, Sapphira began to sprint, but as she splashed toward shore, a horrible scream made her spin around. Close behind her, Acacia limped toward shore dragging a huge serpent that had latched on to her ankle. She fell to her knees and smacked its body with her scroll.

Snatching the scroll, Sapphira pounded the snake’s midsection. When it finally let go, she grabbed it by the tail and whipped it out into the swamp. Pushing her arms under Acacia’s shoulders, she heaved her sister onto dry land.

Acacia’s face twisted in pain. “My leg’s on fire!”

Sapphira brushed a strand of hair from Acacia’s forehead. “It’s the venom. I can see red lines crawling up your skin.”

“My heart!” Acacia gasped. “It’s jumping like crazy.”

Sapphira whispered for the cross to darken and laid it on Acacia’s chest. “Don’t die on me, now. Just hang on.”

Acacia’s voice fell to a whisper as she labored through convulsive breaths. “Morgan said . . . she has the only cure.”

“Morgan’s a liar!” Sapphira dug into her pocket and retrieved the fruit. “Maybe this will help.”

“But we said . . . we weren’t going to eat it unless . . . we were starving.”

“You’re not going to eat it.” Sapphira squeezed the fruit between her palms. Now that it was wet, it smashed easily into a thick, pasty poultice. She held the mash in her palm and picked up her cross again. “I’m going to rub this stuff in, but first, I’m going to open up the wound a bit more to make sure it gets into your bloodstream.”

“What makes you think . . . this will work?”

“It healed the rash on my palm, so I think it’s worth a try.” Bringing the cross near Acacia’s ankle, she whispered, “A small flame, please, right at the tip.” The top of the cross ignited with a conical flame. “Okay,” she said, looking back at Acacia. “This is really going to hurt.”

“Go ahead. It can’t hurt more than it already does.”

Sapphira pushed the tip of the fire into one of the puncture wounds on Acacia’s ankle.

“Aaaauuugh!” Acacia gritted her teeth. Her words barely punched through. “Okay . . . I was . . . wrong.”

“Shhh! The dog might show up.” The flame sliced a nearly bloodless gash, the heat cauterizing most of the vessels as they blistered open. With the wound now raw and gaping, Sapphira rubbed in the poultice, hoping she could massage it into Acacia’s bloodstream.

Her entire body trembling, Acacia bit her shirt and let out a muffled scream.

Sapphira grimaced. “I’m sorry. I have no idea if I’m doing this right. I’m no surgeon, you know.”

“No kidding.” Acacia shook even harder, but after a few seconds, her tremors subsided, and she let out a long sigh.

Sapphira kept her hand over the wound. Heat radiated through the mash and stung her palm. “Is it feeling better?”

“A little. Now it’s more like Nabal’s whip hitting me on the ankle about a thousand times.”

Sapphira lifted her hand. The goop had turned pink, but a small white spot stood out in the mixture. She plucked out a tough, yet flexible bead about the size of a baby’s tooth. Tiny red stripes encircled the bead three times.

“The fruit had a seed in the middle,” Sapphira said, stuffing it into her pocket. “I’ll save it for later.”

“So what are we going to do now? We don’t have any food to give Shiloh.”

“I guess I’ll tell her I’ll come back once I create a safe portal.”

“Okay.” Acacia folded her hands over her waist. “I’ll wait here for you.”

“No. If Morgan doesn’t find you, that dog probably will.”

Acacia pushed up to a sitting position. “Then I’ll go with you.”

Sapphira touched Acacia’s leg just above her wound. “You have to drop through a hole and land pretty hard. I don’t think your leg could handle it.”

“Okay,” Acacia said. “Do you have a plan?”

“I thought of a way you might be able to go home without fighting those snakes again.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

Sapphira nodded toward Morgan’s castle at the top of the hill. “Remember the three doors I told you about in the dungeon up there? Usually one of them opens to a dimension I’ve been to before. Elam, Gabriel, and I went through a portal we found there and ended up at Patrick’s mansion.”

“So you think I can find the exit portal?”

“It’s easy. A skeleton marks the spot.”

“A skeleton?” Acacia rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. Sounds like a safe place.”

“Don’t worry. It seemed safe while we were there, and I’ll help you.” Sapphira stood and held out her hand for Acacia. “Think you can walk?”

Acacia pulled up on Sapphira’s hand and tested her ankle. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Sapphira helped Acacia sneak up to Morgan’s house. Sapphira had to climb into the window by herself, but since no one seemed to be home, she unlocked the door from the inside, and the two of them took their time descending the dungeon’s staircase.

As darkness flooded their surroundings, Sapphira reignited the cross. When they arrived at the lantern gateway, she illuminated and extinguished the lanterns in the usual numbered sequence, and the gate creaked open. Acacia leaned heavily against Sapphira as they passed through. Every few seconds, she breathed a muffled groan.

“Are you going to make it?” Sapphira asked.

Acacia sat down in front of the trio of doors and extended her sore ankle. “I’ll rest while you open the doors.”

When Sapphira swung open the first door, the endless field of grass appeared. Stepping over to the second, she turned the handle and opened it more slowly. Behind this one, she found the hole that led to the sixth circle. “Here’s my door,” she said.

As she crept toward the third door, her hand trembled. This had to be the forest! It just had to be! She reached for the knob and slung the door open. Tropical trees arched over a winding dirt path that slipped under dozens of low-hanging vines. She spun around and dramatically swept her arms toward the doorway. “Acacia, I give you the path home.”

Acacia rose slowly to her feet and hobbled toward Sapphira. “Well, it’s not the wardrobe to Narnia, but it’ll do.”

Sapphira helped Acacia limp along the path until she got her bearings. Running ahead, she located the portal and searched through the ferns until she found an extra long bone. She plunged it into the earth next to the skeleton and hustled back to Acacia.

“Okay,” Sapphira said, catching her breath. “When you pass the fifth tree on the right, turn ninety degrees and you’ll see a grassy mound. The portal is about fifty paces on the other side. I stuck a bone in the ground to make it easy to find. Just open the portal and you’ll fall into Patrick’s house. You can take your time, but I want to hurry back and find Shiloh.”

Acacia embraced Sapphira, then pulled away and pressed her finger into her sister’s chest. “Don’t take any chances. If I don’t see you by tomorrow, I’m coming to find you.”

“Fair enough,” Sapphira replied. “Did you bring your sunglasses?”

“No. I don’t have a hat, either.”

“I guess you’ll have to go anyway.” Sapphira combed her fingers through Acacia’s white locks. “With the styles I’ve seen in Glastonbury lately, no one’s going to say anything about your hair. If you keep your head down, maybe no one will notice your eyes. Just walk slowly.”

Acacia grinned. “Yes, Mother.”

Sapphira turned and headed toward Morgan’s dungeon, frequently glancing at Acacia as she limped down the path.

The doorway back to the dungeon seemed to hang in the air, suspended a foot or so from the ground by an invisible force. Sapphira jumped into it and hurried to the middle door. Standing at the edge, she gazed down into the darkness. “Okay,” she said out loud, grasping the cross. “Don’t think about it. Just jump.” Closing her eyes, she leaped in.

Squatting low, Acacia rubbed her finger across a jewel mounted in the skeleton’s belt. How strange that the man’s flesh would rot, while the leather in the belt showed no signs of decay.

A deep voice pierced the silence. “There are many mysteries in the land of the dead.”

Acacia gasped and rose to her feet, keeping her weight on her good leg. A tall, tuxedo-clad man with a pair of umbrellas tucked under his arm stood next to her. “Welcome to the first circle,” he said.

Acacia shuffled to the rear until her heels bumped against the bones. She teetered backwards, her arms flailing, but the man grabbed her wrist and pulled her upright. She pressed her palm against her chest. “Thank you.”

The man smiled and nodded. “You’re quite welcome.”

She slipped her arm away from his grasp. “Who are you?”

“I am Joseph,” he said, bowing. “I am a guide for lost souls in this place.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Joseph.” Acacia extended her hand. “But I can’t stay. I have to get back to the land of the living.”

Joseph took her hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Indeed you do. A terrible tragedy is about to befall a very old friend of yours, and, after it happens, you must bring her to me.”

She jerked her hand back. “Who? Sapphira?”

“Her identity will be revealed in a very short time, but you must bring her the moment you learn of her trouble, or an even greater calamity will result.”

“So you’ll be right here?” Acacia asked, pointing at the ground. “I should come back to this spot?”

“Yes.” Joseph lifted an umbrella. “Dark clouds are rolling in, far darker than you can imagine, but I will be your guide as you and your friend embark on a long journey.”

Acacia glanced at the stormy sky. “Okay, I’ll do my best, but my ankle’s pretty sore, so it might take me awhile.”

“You will have time.” He pointed the umbrella at the skeleton. “But you must go now. The portal’s glow will indicate that it is still open, so you will not need your scroll to return. But make haste. Every portal leading to these circles will soon be closed to all but a select few, and the oracles of fire will be powerless to break through the seal that God will set on the portals. They will remain closed until the new dragon king comes.”

As Elam clopped into the ancient chamber, his footsteps echoed from the distant walls. Ever since Patrick’s adopted cousin moved the round table, no obstructions lay hidden in the darkness, so he marched ahead until he stood directly underneath the hole in the ceiling. A moonbeam shone on his head as he called out into the shadowy chamber. “Robert. Are you in here? It’s me . . . um . . . Markus.”

“Over here.” The voice was sad and low. “But you can call me Patrick again. Morgan has taken my precious daughter. What more can she do to me?”

Elam stepped out of the moon’s glow. “I heard about Shiloh. Is that why you returned?”

“Yes, Paili and I will take the orphanage back immediately. She needs the children’s company to ease her pain.”

“Aren’t you going to fight to get Shiloh back?”

“Fight?” A derisive laugh punctuated Patrick’s tone. “What can a man do against a sorceress? How can a living human track down a prisoner in the land of the dead? If the great Merlin could not retrieve his wife, how can I expect to ever find Shiloh?”