Eye of the Oracle Read Online Free PDF

can finish them off for good.”
    “For good?” Makaidos bared his teeth, grimacing at the pain of Thigocia’s healing massage. “But the Oracle is dead, and the shield is gone! What good can possibly come from this disaster?”
    Arramos thumped his tail on the ground. “Makaidos, the Oracle knew he would die today. All is coming to pass exactly as he had foreseen, and the end of the Watchers is at hand. Now that the shield is down, you and Thigocia must fly immediately to the refuge boat and protect it while we destroy the rest of the demons.”
    Thigocia turned off her fiery jets. “Protect the boat? Are you sure we can do it?”
    “We would serve you better chasing the Watchers,” Makaidos said, snorting a stream of sparks. “We are both faster than Hilidan.”
    Arramos spat a fireball into the air. “No!”
    Makaidos backed away, trembling.
    “They will split up,” Arramos continued, “and we will not be able to track them all. If any demon eludes us, he will surely go straight to the boat. We need two guardians there, and you must leave now!”
    Makaidos unfurled his wings again. Bowing his head, he spoke softly. “If that is your will, Father.” With his gaze on the ground, he noticed the Ovulum, now dark and smeared with mud. He scooped it up in his clawed hand and let the rain wash away the grime. As the scarlet glass cleared, the image of a man’s face appeared deep within the crystal, a ruddy tint blushing his wrinkled cheeks. The man’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Makaidos closed his claws around it. Very strange! But it was a mystery that would have to wait.
    He lifted into the air, nodding at Thigocia, and without another word the two young dragons soared into the weeping sky.
    Japheth smeared a line of pitch across the joint between two planks . . . the last two planks. Checking hundreds of seams had taken all day, but it had to be done. The huge boat sat in a rocky trench, untested for buoyancy or leaks. Only water, and plenty of it, could prove if the last hundred years of labor amounted to anything more than the biggest waste of time the world had ever known. He, for one, didn’t want to risk the lives of his whole family by slacking off for a single hour, especially now that the final day, the seventh day of the prophecy, was at hand.
    Japheth ambled across a sagging rope-and-sapling bridge from the main deck to the rim of the trench and then into the shade of one of the dozen or so tall sycamores surrounding the ark. After wiping his hands with a fibrous rag, he picked up a flask and guzzled a long drink. Ah! He mopped his dripping chin with his sleeve. Water never tasted so good!
    Taking his rag and his flask, he walked out onto the bridge again and peered down at his brother Shem about thirty feet below. The main door to the boat, which they called “Eve’s Door,” was wider than an elephant and as tall as a giraffe. It lay open inside the trench next to Shem, like a ramp awaiting more cargo to tromp aboard. A tense crease dug into Shem’s brow as he ran his hand over the hull.
    Japheth reached his flask over Shem and poured out a trickle, hoping it would . . . Yes! Right on his head!
    Shem leaned back and held out his open palm.
    “No, it’s not raining yet,” Japheth said, laughing.
    Shem shook his head, running his fingers through his gray-speckled hair. “It will be soon. You’d better finish those seams.” He turned back to his work, his brow once again furrowing.
    “My seams are done.” Japheth crouched on the swaying bridge to get a better look at the joint his brother was checking. “Will it hold?”
    Shem dug his fingertip into the crack. “It’s sealed underneath.” He clambered up a tall ladder and hoisted himself out of the trench. Now standing on the land side of the bridge, he peeled away a shred of dried pitch from his hand. “I think that’s all. We’re finally ready.”
    Japheth scrambled off the bridge and handed Shem the rag. “Then why