Prophecy of the Flame

by Lynn Hardy

  A slow smile replaces the grimace the elf has worn since our arrival. “You know, if his family supplies DNA, the potion could act as a link.” Allinon’s self-gratifying tone lacks warmth or compassion. “I will be able to pull directly from their auras. It’ll be like a blood transfusion for his spirit essence.”

  “Ex-cell-ent! Faced with an impossible task, all we have to do is get creative with new abilities, and voila.” Jamison snaps his fingers, his jovial nature fully restored. “A life is saved. You know this world of magic might not be so bad.” The chestnut-haired healer shrugs sheepishly. “But I’ll let you guys explain to the prince what we need to get this job done.”

  Determined to reassert his authority, Allinon strides to the group gathered by the door.

  Prince Szames is engaged in a quiet discussion with the sorcerer and someone who has to be the sister he mentioned earlier. The woman stands half a foot shorter than I. Her head comes to Prince Szames’s chest. She is as petite as he is massive, but the family resemblance is there nonetheless. They have the same flaxen hair, true blond. Not sandy or dirty. Every single strand is the same exact hay color. Their eyes are also carbon copies of sapphire blue.

  Prince Szames turns toward us as I come up beside our leader. “Your Highness, I believe we may be able to help Prince Alexandros, but I am going to need a few things. Time is of the essence.”

  Allinon pauses. I discern hope rise in a sharp pinnacle in the prince’s companions, but I still feel nothing from the big warrior. “We need a large tub, big enough to hold your brother. I need it filled at least halfway with one of every kind of food: meat, poultry, fish if you have it, vegetables, flour, sugar, even a pinch of each type of spice your cooks use. Put all of it into the tub. The tub should be brought to the reception chamber. Also, we need warm water, enough to fill it halfway. This we must have immediately.” With a dismissive dip of his chin, Prince Szames dashes to the door, yelling for someone named Harold.

  Allinon turns to the princess, though we have not been introduced. “Is Prince Alexandros married?” Her eyes flutter as his new line of questioning takes her by surprise.

  I interrupt our leader. “Princess Szeanne Rose, I am Archmage Reba, and this is Allinon, the druid elf.” She inclines her head, inviting me to continue. “The rest of what we need is the cooperation of his family, especially any offspring he has fathered. Does Prince Alexandros have any children?” I perceive tension rising in the princess.

  Knowing her support is crucial, I urge, “It is necessary for any blood relation to be present at the healing. Our success depends upon it.”

  Merithin and the princess exchange glances. The sorcerer gives a slight, almost imperceptible nod. The princess addresses me hesitantly. “Prince Alexandros’s mother died in childbirth. Prince Szames and I are his siblings. Prince Alexandros has sired a bastard, Andertz, unacknowledged by King Arturo.” Although she seems calm enough, I sense her objection to her father’s attitude. “Is it absolutely necessary for both King Arturo and Andertz to be involved?”

  I take a moment to form aura theory into Iron Age words and concepts. Prince Szames joins us as I begin. “Whatever attacked your brother has left part of itself behind. It is nesting in Prince Alexandros’s aura, his spirit, draining that which defines him, that which makes your brother unique. This aura virus is also hindering your brother’s ability to heal.”

  The sorcerer nods but I receive blank looks from the nobility. I smother a sigh. “Most of what we are, as people, comes from our parents and is passed on to our children. We will draw on the part of each of you that is also present in your brother. By transferring a little of that substance to Prince Alexandros, we will stabilize his aura, his inner being, and keep it from slipping away. The body will naturally rebuild itself. Jamison will speed this recovery, but your brother has lost so much of his inner self, I fear he may not wake without aid to his aura as well. Having no mother to be here, it is vital that both Prince Alexandros’s father and his son, as well as Prince Szames and yourself, take part in this healing.” Will the love of a son outweigh family pride?

  “Rose, I trust you will obtain permission from Andrayia to allow her son’s attendance.” Prince Szames turns to me. “I will explain to King Arturo the necessity of Andertz’s participation. Anything proven necessary to aid in the recovery of his firstborn I am sure my father will assent to. I thank you for your patience in explaining the importance of this matter. I leave you to your preparations.” With an inclination of his head and a smile he shares with his sister, Prince Szames dashes from the room. The princess, likewise, gives me a nod before departing.

  Allinon clears his throat and speaks to the sorcerer, the last person of authority in the room. “We have one last request. We need a quiet place to prepare for our part in the healing.”

  “Yes, of course, if you will follow me.” Merithin gestures for us to precede him. The robed mage leads us back to the reception chamber, where Charles and Jerik are waiting. Merithin crosses the room, striding toward the doorway on the opposite side. Entering a new level of luxury, my jaw hits the floor. Thank God for the manners of the upper class. With them holding the door, they don’t see me gaping like a bumpkin!

  An immense table dominates the room. The wooden plateau will seat a dozen or more comfortably. What is most impressive, though, is not the size, but the quality of the work. Intricately carved foliage glowing like pale, amber leaves clinging to summer’s warmth creates a scalloped edge around the tawny wooden expanse. A marvelously knotted tree trunk serves as its base. The pedestal is darker than the sides and top, an altogether different hue, both blending and contrasting with the golden crown of flora. Even the outer supports are carved with great precision, mimicking the leafstalk they represent. The entire table gives the appearance of a living oak petrified, preserved perpetually in autumn.

  The chairs depict animals, the antlers of an elk-like beast forming the back support of the closest seat. The settees must have taken a master craftsman a lifetime to complete. In the center of the masterpiece is a pair of candelabras. Cast in an enigmatic metal looking like a mixture of brass and pewter, five birds varying in shape and size nestle together, forming the base for half a dozen candles.

  Tapestries, so intricately woven, you would swear they are paintings, grace each of the four walls. The tableaus illustrate different hunting techniques. In one a hunter stands his ground against a massive bear, holding nothing but a spear. His wounded companion leans against a tree in the background. This isn’t a dining room; it’s a work of art!

  I school my composure as Allinon addresses Merithin. “This will do. Would you care to join us for our council?”

  My magesight, still active, shows the senior’s dull aura. Some brown and burgundy are present, as well as traces of yellow, but blue is by far the dominant color in his aura. Blue must be the affiliation for magic. Oddly it contains not even a trace of green.

  A loud growl emanates from Jerik’s middle before Merithin has a chance to respond. A hardy guffaw escapes Charles as he elbows his short companion.

  “It will be an honor to join you. But first let me see about sending for some refreshments.” The sorcerer goes in search of what, for us, will be lunch.

  Charles gives a low whistle of appreciation. “This crib is tight!” He cruises over to the tapestry on the far wall. “If we save this prince, along with the kingdom, ya think we might get a little sumthin’, sumthin’, fo’ it?”

  “So this place is real enough when it comes to money! Well, I’m hoping part of any reward includes a trip home. I have the feeling we are going to more than earn it.”

  Allinon shoots daggers in my direction. I tilt my head, jerking my chin in challenge. The elf turns to the others. “If we are going to save the prince, we’d better get organized. I think it best we don’t mention to anyone just yet that this will be our first time trying anything like this. Let’s stick to the role of experienced crusaders.” The others grunt in agreement.
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  The door opens. Merithin rejoins us. Allinon rushes to the elder’s side. “Merithin, I will be explaining to the others what we are going to do for Prince Alexandros. Will you join us?”

  “Certainly.” The wizened sorcerer smiles.

  I gesture to the far end of the table. “Okay if I prepare over there?”

  “We shall take the other end, milady.” Merithin smiles, following me to my end of the table to manipulate the chair for me before joining Allinon.

  I pull a slim dagger from the sheath belted around the top of my boot. Cradling it in my hands, I rest them on the table. A rhyme springs to mind. Deep in thought, I mutter.

  “Razor sharp you are, so what can be gained

  By causing those you cut a stinging pain?

  Your edge will remain true no matter its use,

  You will never break, whatever the abuse.

  No pain shall you cause, no matter the cut.

  It is the price you shall pay, never to rust.”

  An aqua light emanates from my hands. My fingers feel a shadowed weight upon them. The radiance envelops the dagger, sinking into the blade. The weapon has a faint teal glow as I place it on the table. The pain in my head is minor, though the enchantment took quite a bit of energy. Is using magic like drinking? At first you get drunk and hungover with a beer or two, but after a while it takes a six-pack. Maybe with plenty of use, I’ll build up a tolerance.

  I endeavor to focus on the larger problem. Thoughts skitter through my mind like mice avoiding a cat. Removing a substance… isolating an infection, banishing, rebuking, exorcizing… I struggle to pin down a solution to the AV. It needs to address magic. It’s gotta be comprehensive of the situation. What I really need is a pen and some paper to help get me organized…

  “To keep my spells from being a bust,

  A pen and paper are a definite must.”

  The space above the table wavers like a desert mirage. Instantly the legal pad and fine-point BIC pen I pictured in my mind materialize. A smile glides across my lips. Still pretty much pain free. This world is going to be one heck of a ride!

  With the new implements, I jot down the parameters needed to evict the amoeba. Three pages later, I finish a rhyming couplet I am reasonably sure will get rid of the AV. I sit, silently going over the rhyme to commit it to memory. The door opens as I decide it’s time for more magic.

  “There are many words, some must rhyme,

  A perfect memory will grace my mind.”

  A soft wave of dizziness swamps my brain. When the world stops spinning, a dull ache blooms. Seems I’ve reached my limit again. With a cursory thought, I am able to recall the constructed enchantment as if reading it from the paper before me. My task complete, I join the others.

  A squire places a serving tray containing a large bowl of fruit, two loaves of bread, and several different types of cheese on the table. A second squire follows with plates, napkins, a pitcher, and several goblets.

  Taking my cue from Merithin, I use the softer cheese as a spread on a dark slice from the loaf. Famished, I work my way through several pieces of fruit as well as three large hunks of bread and a considerable amount of cheese. How’d I manage to eat so much? It can’t be more than two or three hours since I had breakfast with Kyle.

  As if reading my thoughts, Merithin supplies an answer to my musings. “I apologize for the oversight. I should have had something waiting upon your arrival.”

  “Your timing was perfect,” I mumble, popping the last bite of bread into my mouth. “The lunch was delicious.”

  Merithin tilts his head as if rolling a thought over in his mind. “Though your participation in the translocation was minimal, the summoning spell is taxing to all participants. Frankly I’m shocked to see you up so soon after your arrival. Your auras seem unaffected by the passage across the planes.”

  “Traveling across the dimensions isn’t practiced in our land.” I ease into the topic. “I have a few questions about the process used to bring us here. May I inquire?”

  “Knowledge is unrestricted in this kingdom.” The powerful elder smiles warmly. “We, as a culture, pride ourselves on science and research. Feel free to inquire about anything that is a curiosity. Arcane principles vary from world to world and dimension to dimension. If you have questions concerning the mystical forces, please ask either my apprentice or myself. Nemir assisted me in the summoning. He is indisposed but will be available on the morrow. It seems our enemy was more alert than I anticipated. An outside force tried to disrupt the spell. Nemir took the brunt of the attack.”

  “We five were the object of your summons, no one else?” Is Kyle here somewhere?

  “Milady Archmage Reba, I apologize for bringing you and you men here without consulting you, however, our need was most urgent.”

  I nod to the sorcerer, accepting his apology. “Have you summoned many people from different worlds?”

  “Each of us is able to perform a summoning once in our lifetime, no matter the amount of power we control. It is our First Law of Magic.” The elder seems to evade a direct reply.

  I probe deeper. “Are there others here with the ability to do this type of magic?”

  “One out of every hundred sorcerers has the power and discipline to achieve master status, which is required for transdimensional summoning. I know of four other sorcerers who are masters of the art; two are no longer with us. I have trained over twenty apprentices of various talents but have never had the honor of guiding a sorcerer to the level of master.” The aged magician’s thoughts wander. “Although there was one with the potential, but he didn’t have the discipline…”

  “So Reba has the ability to send us back to our home?” Allinon interrupts the elder’s musings.

  The sorcerer clears his throat. “Her aura is strong. If she is practiced in the arcane enough to handle the forces she summons, then yes, I don’t see why she couldn’t cast a portal spell if she so chooses.”

  “Reba, I suggest you begin—”

  Merithin’s eyes narrow and his brows draw down. “Milord, I beg you to heed my warning. Though Reba may choose to send you back, I don’t suggest she take such an action until the enemy at our gates has been subdued. I was able to deflect their attack on the portal transfer with ease, but it was an unorganized probe, nothing more. If our foe is as cunning as he is powerful, then the next time a portal spell is cast, an attack will be imminent.”

  I nod to the sorcerer. “I will take the proper precautions when researching this matter.”

  “Archmage Reba, I’m afraid I have not properly conveyed the importance of the matter. If a portal spell is interrupted when participants are engaged, all involved would be slain.”

  Charles goes ashy, Allinon blanches, “Master Sorcerer Merithin, we will free the city of its attackers before making any attempt at returning home.”

  Merithin lips compress as he nods in satisfaction. While giving us important answers, Merithin has the demeanor of a wise grandfather sharing the legacy of the knowledge collected over many years. A transformation begins as he contemplates the new type of magic. It takes years off his wrinkles. The sorcerer asks with childish anticipation, “Master Jamison, you mentioned something about demonstrating this healing magic?”

  I grin at the sorcerer’s exuberance. “Jamison, use this enchanted dagger – it will cut without causing pain.” I hand the ensorcelled blade to my companion. “Allinon, perhaps the three of us should demonstrate the link we will use in healing Prince Alexandros?”

  The elf steps in front of me. “Jerik, Charles, one of you must volunteer as a patient.”

  Jerik’s gravelly voice is like the rumble of thunder in the silent room. “I’ll do it. Never been healed before.”

  His brow bunches up into a scowl as Jamison wields the knife. When the blade makes contact, the dwarf relaxes. “Strange. All that blood, but I feel nothing.”

  I take Jamison’s left hand. Allinon takes my other one. The healer places his right hand on Jer
ik’s forearm. Closing my eyes helps me focus on slow, even breathing. My shoulders jump when I feel a tugging sensation. It is like sitting beside a high-powered fan. Only it isn’t pulling air away from me; it is pulling something from within. I make a conscious effort not to resist the insistent drag that is sucking energy from the very fiber of my soul.

  Certain now of the power I control—or my lack thereof—I open my eyes, eager to get a look at a genuine healing. A green light surrounds Jerik’s palm. The illumination intensifies as the wound narrows. The bleeding slows. The skin melts and blends. In a matter of minutes, no sign of the incision remains. Incredible! And Jamison thought my powers were cool!

  “Good as new.” Jerik wiggles his fingers. “Other than tingling, didn’t feel a thing.”

  “That was amazing. Truly amazing. And this healing works as well for larger wounds?” Merithin asks. “Can you mend bones? Is this procedure taxing for the patient as well as you?”

  “Excuse me, Sir Merithin, the requested tub and supplies have arrived.” Although he addresses the sorcerer, the page’s eyes dart in my direction. He’s working? He can’t be more than twelve!

  “Thank you, lad. We will be along directly.” Turning to us, he sighs. “It seems my questions will need to wait for another time. Thank you for the demonstration. The skill you’ve shown gives me hope. Perhaps Prince Alexandros is not yet lost.”

  The reception chamber is devoid of most of the human occupants. A large, wooden tub occupies the center of the room. As requested, it is half filled with a variety of foods. On the far side of the room, seated in a chair next to the princess, a woman holds a small boy on her lap.

  Allinon and the others proceed to the requested supplies. My feet are glued in place. I can’t stop staring at the princess and Andrayia, for that is surely the identity of the young woman accompanying her. The pair of females have the same exact color of hair. Oh great! Please don’t tell me we have been transported to the World of Golden Locks! I gotta remember to lay off the blonde jokes.