Eye of the Oracle - By Bryan Davis Page 0,175

the ten-foot-tall giant floating within the recess of the stony wall. “Hello, Yereq,” Sapphira sang. “It’s me.”

The sleeping giant’s face remained stony at first, but slowly, ever so slowly, a weak smile appeared.

“Someday I’m going to wake you up,” she continued, “but I can’t yet, not until I figure out the code in Mardon’s journal.” She turned to Acacia and let out a heavy sigh. “Do you ever get tired of hearing me say that?”

“I got tired of it after the tenth time.” Acacia nodded at the chamber. “But Yereq seems to enjoy it.”

Sapphira lifted the cross higher, sending the light over Yereq again. His smile spread across his face. She lowered the cross and gazed at her twin but didn’t want to ask her burning question for the hundredth time. Though it remained unspoken today, Acacia answered it anyway with her usual gracious tone. “Don’t worry. If we ever wake him, he’ll love you.”

Sapphira knelt at the base of the growth chamber. The counter now read “8550,” just a few ticks lower than the previous reading. She tapped the counter with her finger. “I think it’s still dropping at the same rate.”

“It’s moving so slowly,” Acacia said, “we’ll have to wait till the twenty-first century to see it hit zero.”

After rising to her feet, Sapphira waved the burning cross at the seven or eight chambers within reach of her light. “Maybe, but if Yereq and these giants wake up in a foul mood, I don’t want to be around.”

Acacia raised her finger. “If we take a meter, we won’t have to be anywhere near them. We’ll know when they’re about to hatch.”

Sapphira knelt in front of the chamber’s hearth again and pried the meter loose. “That’s strange.” She turned it over and examined the back. “No connection wires.”

Acacia crouched low. “So it doesn’t do anything?”

Sapphira flipped it to its digital side. “Maybe it’s just a visible timer that matches controlling timers embedded in the magneto bricks themselves.”

“How do you know so much about magneto bricks?”

Sapphira slid the meter into her pocket. “I helped Mardon with his experiments a lot more than I care to talk about.”

Devin stooped next to the stream and pinched a clump of blood-stained mud. “Only one set of tracks follows the trail.”

Palin guided his horse into the stream. “The other two might have stayed in the water. The bed is solid enough.”

Rising to his full height, Devin shook his head. “If they wanted to throw us off that way, all three would have stayed in the creek. The blood trail was meant to steer us away from the demon witch.”

“Shall we separate, then?” Palin pointed upstream. “The boy is wounded. It won’t be hard to catch him.”

“He is of no consequence, and I will need your help until my next infusion of power.” Devin limped toward his horse, a muscular roan gelding with a cropped mane.

Palin jumped down and gave Devin a boost onto its back. “When will you perform the next infusion?” Palin asked. “Your limp is getting worse every day.”

“Do you think I haven’t noticed?” Devin pulled out the candlestone’s chain and dangled the gem at his chest. “The blood we have is getting old. I want to wait until we can use Thigocia’s blood.”

“I see. New life from new blood.”

Devin guided his horse into the water and pointed downstream. “The witch will probably head for the River Clyde. She’s a crafty devil, so we’d better hurry or we’ll lose the trail.”

“Any more ideas about the man who came out of that egg?” Palin asked.

“No, but if he tries to stop us” Devin wrapped his fingers around Excalibur’s hilt “his head will be looking up at his body from a pool of blood.”

Chapter 3

GABRIEL’S GIFT

January, 1949

Elam fastened a pin on the diaper and poked the baby’s fat little belly. “Feel better now?” The baby made a splurting sound from underneath his diaper and giggled.

“Rupert!” Elam moaned. “Not again!”

A woman’s voice sang from across the room. “I’ll do it, Elam.”

Elam smiled at Mrs. Nathanson as she crossed the enormous nursery, sidestepping coloring books, a plastic baseball bat, and three toddlers snuggling blankets on the soft carpet. He nodded at the snoozing children. “Except for Rupert and those three, all the under-twos are changed and in their cribs.”

“You really are a gentleman!” Mrs. Nathanson said, taking Rupert from Elam. “Just like” she suddenly turned her head “just like always.”

Elam wondered about the strange hesitation but chalked it up to her frequent state of emotional upheaval,

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