Eye of the Oracle - By Bryan Davis Page 0,179

must sacrifice

To purge the dragon in your breast.

Beware of Morgan’s hidden plot

To find an heir to Arthur’s throne.

She lusts to dwell within the veil

And reap the harvest you have sown.

For as Hartanna’s age-old twin,

The seed you sow implants an heir.

A daughter sprouts in walls of flesh

And grows in secret, cloaked in prayer.

Now Morgan learns where Valcor dwells;

She lurks in shadows, patient, still,

Awaiting blossoms from the sprout

To cut and capture, then to kill.

Beware the snake and hide the girl,

But let her live a carefree life.

Instill in her a faithful heart

For only faith endures the strife.

Above all plans, protect the gem,

The key that opens Dragons’ Rest,

For Arthur’s seed must find his way

To rescue captives in his quest.

Take care to learn this secret path

To fertilize the barren land,

For dragons die to shed their scales

And bow before the Son of Man.

Elam breathed a low whistle. “I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means!”

Patrick smiled, but it was a weak, sad sort of smile. “What do you think it means?”

Elam folded his hands and pressed his thumbs together. The part about the hybrid being laid to rest and the king’s son sacrificing seemed to point to Gabriel, but should he mention something so morbid right in front of him? Had Patrick already figured it out? Maybe it was best to focus on another part of the prophecy, at least for now. “Obviously,” he said slowly, “Morgan’s out to get a girl, and . . . uh . . .” He shifted his gaze to the roof where only a single raven remained, preening its feathers. “Is Mrs. Nathanson . . . expecting?”

Patrick tapped a finger on the table. “The exact question I immediately asked myself. You see, we had always thought Ruth was unable to bear a child, so, to soothe her empty arms and fill her great desire to care for abandoned children, we established our orphanage. Yet, when I saw this prophecy, I urged her to get a blood test.”

“And . . . um . . . did the rabbit die?” Elam asked.

“No.” Patrick’s weak smile returned. “I’m afraid the little hopper is alive and well.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “I was hopeful, but Ruth is not expecting.”

Elam picked up the rubellite and peered into its crimson center. “Then how can this prophecy be fulfilled? Who’s the daughter Merlin’s talking about? And how can this gem be a key? And what was that stuff about barren land?”

Patrick opened his palm, and Elam laid the pendant in his hand. “As you have so aptly demonstrated,” Patrick said, “there are many questions, and I can answer only one with confidence. The prophecy will eventually come to pass, but it seems that the fulfillment might come in ways we do not expect.”

The raven suddenly swooped down and snatched the pendant’s chain. In a flurry of black wings, it took off toward the hole in the ceiling with the pendant dangling underneath.

“Noooo!” Patrick lunged at the bird but missed.

Gabriel unfurled his wings, leaped onto the table, and launched himself upward. Folding his wings slightly, he squeezed through the hole without missing a beat. One second later, he was gone.

Elam held his breath. Patrick’s gaze locked on the ceiling. After about half a minute, Gabriel dropped through the hole, his wings letting him drift gently to the floor. With his brow furrowed, he shuffled back to the table.

Patrick gasped. “You . . . you didn’t get it?”

Gabriel held up the pendant. “Oh, I got the gem.”

Patrick clutched his chest. “Don’t frighten me like that!”

“Yeah,” Elam said. “You looked like you were mad.”

“I am mad. I grabbed that little buzzard by the neck and yanked the chain from its beak, but when I turned back, a huge bat latched on to my wrist.” He held up his arm, displaying a stream of blood. “It hung on until I let the bird go.”

Patrick cradled Gabriel’s arm and examined the wound. “We can’t take you to the hospital, but we have a nurse on staff who is well versed in these matters.”

“Can we trust her to keep my wings a secret?” Gabriel asked.

“Certainly. She’s my wife.” Patrick took the pendant and laid it back in its box. His brow knitted a trio of deep creases as he sat down at the table. “Elam, have you figured out who the raven is?”

Elam stared at the ceiling’s hole and sat next to Patrick. “Morgan? After all these years?”

“Can there be any doubt?”