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?
Chapter 3
THE BATTLE FOR THE ARK
The largest of the arriving Watchers, a square-jawed giant with red wings, landed next to Samyaza. “Make a barrier!” he bellowed. As the demons formed a ring around their fallen leader, Thigocia dropped the sword to the ark’s deck, completed her turn, and flew in tight ellipses, widening her orbit as she maneuvered nearer Makaidos, who lay motionless outside the demonic circle.
The other dragons attacked, blasting streaks of white-hot flames. The Watchers parried by shooting bolts of darkness from their eyes, keeping the dragons at bay. A huge, axe-wielding human stepped into the sycamore glade. Another followed him, a scar-faced man with battle leather strapped across his torso and a club in each hand.