Prophecy of the Flame

by Lynn Hardy

  Although their manes have the same hue, these two women will never be mistaken for sisters. Judging from their seated position, Andrayia is even shorter than the princess, and that is the smallest of the differences. Where the princess is petite, Andrayia is voluptuous, in features as well as figure.

  Wide, almond eyes evaluate us as I cross the room. Jamison falls in beside me. The women rise as we near them. My prediction proves accurate: Andrayia is a good two inches shorter than the princess. The top of her head doesn’t even reach my shoulder.

  Andrayia sets her son beside her. She curtsies with a bowed head as the princess makes the introductions. “Reba the archmage, I present Andrayia and her son, Andertz.”

  Pretending I am used to people bowing in my presence, I incline my head as Prince Szames did.

  Princess Szeanne Rose continues, “Milady Archmage Reba, may I be of further assistance? I have knowledge of the bodily arts and have studied medicine for many years.”

  “Your Highness, that is a most welcome offer. Jamison, maybe you two can discover which herbs will aid in the healing process?” Finding a secluded corner, the pair immediately put their heads together.

  I smile at Andrayia. “I thank you for your timely arrival. I assume this means you’re willing to allow Andertz to participate in the healing of Prince Alexandros?” Why do I perceive hostility? Could it be tension?

  “No harm will come to him?” When I nod, she continues. “Then my permission is given.”

  Definitely hostility, but why? What have I done?

  “You are a pretty lady,” squeaks a small voice from beside her.

  Squatting down so we are eye to eye, I address the smallest member of our impromptu healing group. “Thank you, young man. You are Andertz, right?”

  His head dips as he retains a tight grip on his mother’s skirt. “My name is Reba. How are you today?” This boy is going to be a real lady-killer. Emerald eyes are combined with jet black hair and a porcelain complexion.

  “Good, but Poppa is sick. Are you going to help Poppa get better?” The love I feel ebbing from this child brings a lump to my throat.

  “Yes, but I need your help. Would you like to help me work some magic, so we can fix your poppa?”

  His eyes widen, but once again he nods.

  Hearing the door open, I glance to my right. Prince Szames ushers in a distinguished, gray-bearded gentleman whose elaborate robes speak of great importance. I bow low with the rest of those assembled. Rising, I turn back to Andertz. “You will have to be very brave.”

  “I’m a big boy and very brave too,” claims the youngster as he puts his hands on his hips, letting go of his safety net. “I want to help Poppa get better.” He can’t be more than four, five at most. A truly brave boy, indeed.

  Pulling the enchanted dagger from its sheath, I show it to the child. “This is a special knife. We will need to poke your finger so it will bleed. I promise it won’t hurt, not even a little.” Andertz thrusts his tiny hand toward me.

  Andrayia nods her consent. I take the offered appendage, leading Andertz over to the tub filled with foodstuffs.

  It won’t hurt him… it won’t hurt… it won’t… Willing my eyes not to close, I use the tip of the dagger to prick the diminutive index finger. Blood wells then drips into the tub.

  It takes minutes for the precious drops we require to be deposited. I ramble, trying to distract him from what I find to be a disturbing sight. “The blood will help Allinon use what’s in you. I will also need a lock of your hair.” I carefully gather three stands of hair that have escaped the ponytail he wears. His adorable eyes cringe as I yank out the roots.

  Allinon hands me one of the napkins from our lunch, signaling we have enough fluid. I pass him my blade so he can start on the others. I press the cloth to the wound. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “My hair hurts but the finger was fine, just like you said.” Andertz beams at me. I was right. With a smile like that, a lady-killer indeed.

  I grin. “You know, I bet a boy your age really knows how to spit.” His smile broadens as he gives a nod. “Well, now what I need you to do is spit real big, right into that tub. Can you do that?” With a profusion of enthusiastic nodding, Andertz leans over the side of the tub to donate his last piece of DNA.

  His brows drawn in puzzlement, he turns back to me. “Is this magic?”

  With an aura like that, you might get to work magic of your own some day. “Not yet. This is the preparation. See the tall gentleman over there with white hair? His name is Allinon. In a few minutes, he’ll work some magic on all this stuff so it can be used to help your poppa. Then we will all get into a circle around your poppa and hold hands.”

  Glancing around, I notice an audience has gathered now that everyone has finished making their own DNA deposits. Will a child’s explanation be adequate for all of them?

  “This is where more magic comes in, where I will need your help. What I need you to do is to sit in your mom’s lap, holding hands with the people next to you. You will close your eyes and try to relax. Maybe even pretend you are napping. You’re going to feel kind of funny, like a strong wind is blowing past you, only it will be coming from inside of you. It’s very important to stay relaxed and don’t fight against the feeling coming from your insides. That will be Allinon and Jamison using the magic inside of you to help your poppa. Do you think you can do all that?”

  “Sounds easy. I relax with no fighting. But if I close my eyes, I’ll miss the magic.” Andertz lips form a diminutive pout.

  “It is very, very important that you stay relaxed. If you see the magic, you might get excited. If you get excited and forget about relaxing, you could cause all the magic to stop. If this happens, your poppa may get much sicker. That’s why you need to close your eyes. All right?” Andertz’s lips compress and his eyes darken as he nods. This kid really seems to understand.

  “I tell you what. You can watch Allinon work some magic right now.” This brings back the smile that I am quickly falling in love with.

  The elf is at one end of the tub as he closes his eyes in concentration. Extending his hands over the tub, he begins to sing in a nasally whine. The elven tune causes the hair to rise on the back of my neck. Magesight reveals a brown mist hovering over the contents. The foodstuffs begin to vibrate. As if the molecules are suddenly released from their invisible bonds, the contents filling the wooden bin break apart into tiny pieces. The particles vibrate faster until a blurry haze fills the tub. The air clears. A silver liquid fills the bottom of the container.

  Heaving a sigh, he turns to our group. “Jerik, you and Charles arrange seven chairs around the tub. Merithin, can you retrieve the pitcher we used at lunch? I would have you fill it with the potion I’ve made before it is diluted. You’ll need to pour this over the wound as the healing is performed.”

  Allinon turns to the wide-eyed nobles standing beside the basin. “We will need to wait until the bath is filled halfway with water before the healing can take place. That leaves a few minutes in which I can address any concerns.” The elf gestures to an empty corner of the room.

  Having received no direction from Allinon, I tag along behind the group he leads. Prince Szames makes the formal introductions. “Arturo, sovereign king of Cuthburan, and Princess Szeanne Rose, I present to you, Reba the archmage and Allinon the druid elf.” I curtsy, eyes downcast.

  Looking back to the ruler of this kingdom, I note the family resemblance. King Arturo’s salt-and-pepper hair was undoubtedly once black like Alex and Andertz’s. His eyes are the same sapphire blue as Szames and Szeanne Rose’s. The king’s voice holds the same inflection and mannerism as Prince Szames. The younger son also inherited his father’s strong, straight nose and square jaw.

  “Your Majesty, I am honored.” Allinon’s holier-than-thou tone grates on my nerves. “Do you have any questions regarding the healing process upon which we embark?”

  “Our son has explained the reasons behind our necessary partic
ipation. We have never before participated in anything magical. What may we expect from our roles in this endeavor?” Though his voice remains calm as he uses the royal plural, I perceive a building tension as he talks about his involvement in the supernatural. If the tension transmutes into resistance, the link could be jeopardized!

  Allinon shrugs. “Your Eminence, you might experience a small amount of fatigue but nothing permanent, I assure you.” The king’s expression remains unchanged as our leader continues to explain. “Jamison is a master healer with ‘the gift.’ The gift is what we call the ability of someone who can use his life force to harness the power in our auras. In Jamison’s case it is somatic essence he uses. From the hue of her aura, Princess Zee-Anne Rose also has an affinity for this type of magic.” He turns to Szames. “You, Prince Zam-zes, possess an affinity for corporeal magic such as Merithin and Reba command.”

  This is not helping. If anything, he’s more agitated. Let’s try a different angle.

  In a quiet voice, I attempt to focus his attention on something other than his fear of the arcane. “Your son lies close to death. Therefore, we cannot guarantee our success. Time is of the essence. We can perform the healing without your participation, but our chances of succeeding will be greatly reduced. Unless you are willing to give yourself wholeheartedly into our care with absolutely no reservations, your participation may be more hazardous than your exclusion.”

  Trying not to single out my new monarch, who will undoubtedly resent my eavesdropping on his feelings, I include the others with a glance in their direction. “You must ask yourselves, all of you: Are you willing to trust the intentions, motivations, and capabilities of people you have just met? I realize we ask much, but the life of Prince Alexandros hangs in the balance. There isn’t time to earn your trust. We have no choice but to ask that you give it blindly for the sake of your son and your brother.”

  “You ask much,” King Arturo says. “We three represent the ruling sovereignty of this kingdom. We declare this not to justify our lack of participation, but so that you, Archmage Reba, know the measure of trust we place in your hands. We will shy from nothing, no matter the risk, that will spare the life of Crown Prince Alexandros.” As King Arturo embraces our healing as the savior of his beloved son, I discern the tension siphoning away into nothingness.

  Bowing my head, I show acceptance of his gift. “Never in my life have I betrayed a trust given to me. If it is within our power, your son will be spared. His chances are good with so much support to draw upon.”

  The tub is now half full with a liquid that has a slight silver sheen. The potion is diluted with the water necessary to restore Prince Alexandros’s bodily fluids.

  Allinon rushes to take center stage. “Your Majesty, if you will take a seat at one end? Prince Zam-zes, you will be on your father’s left at Prince Alexandros’ knees. Reba will sit next to you. Princess Zee Anne Rose, you will be seated on Reba’s other side, with a cushion to pillow Prince Alexandros’s head.” I shake my head, hiding a smile. No way I’m correcting the buffoon. He wanted to be leader let him figure out how to pronounce their names on his own. Our leader continues massacring the names of the royal family, “Jamison, you will sit between Zee-Anne Rose and Andertz. King Arturo, since I will restore the ebbing life force to Prince Alexandros, I will sit between you and Andertz. You both possess the strongest spiritual ties to your son.” The elf ushers the monarch toward his seat.

  Either we have been victorious in answering all their questions or have successfully impressed upon them the urgency of this operation. The mentioned participants go immediately to their respective places. In his rush to be close to the king, Allinon forgets the rest of the plan.

  “Your Highness.” I reach out, touching the arm of Prince Szames before he can assume his place. “Would you assist Jamison in bringing your brother? We need to place him in the tub.” If Charles is Mr. America, Szames is Mr. Universe. Why am I so sure I’m not dreaming when the entire royal family looks this good?

  Prince Szames’s manner stiffens fractionally. “I am honored you place this responsibility with me.”

  Taking his hesitation for a quandary, I explain, “You seem the least disturbed by what is about to take place, therefore, I am hoping you won’t require as much time to relax.”

  Szames nods his approval, asking, “Will we commence immediately?”

  Relieved at his enthusiasm, I expound, “Even with the water heated, it will be a drain on your brother. We will begin as soon as possible.” Then again he could be putting up a front. I can’t read him like the others. Turning my thoughts back to the healing, I approach Prince Alexandros’s mistress and her son.

  “Andrayia, if you and Andertz will sit on the seat to the right of Allinon?” I squat to better address the smallest member of the healing circle. “Andertz, are you ready to help us work an enchantment?” He nods and I take his hand. “Prince Szames will bring your poppa and put him in the water. Your father’s shoulder is going to look really bad, but don’t be scared; that’s what we are here to fix. Okay?” He feels excited yet calm. If everyone had the faith of a child!

  I sit, holding the hands of a prince and a princess. I close my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I center myself. The tingling sensation accompanying me since my arrival finds a focus.

  The feeling resembles vibrations from an electrical device, though I don’t need to touch the carrier. I discern the trembling. The stronger the vibrations, the larger the source of magic. It is merely a matter of pulling the outside magic to the large, white mass that is my center of power. I entwine and fold a small piece of the foreign magic into my personal reservoir, forming a bond between the two.

  The difficult thing is to let go of part of my essence at the same time so I can share energy. I have no idea how I know what to do. I just know that I know, that I know what I know…

  After examining the links to make sure they will hold, giving it a few minutes to establish a current, I watch the flow of the outgoing energies.

  I open my eyes. Looks stable.

  “Reba, remove the aura virus,” Allinon commands.

  In the short time it has taken us to prepare for the healing, the prince’s aura has noticeably decreased. The writhing, inky mass of the AV is growing. No time to waste!

  “We seven are joined in agreement.

  Alex won’t be martyred by your treatment.

  It’s of magic you’re made,

  and it’s magic I wield.

  Be gone from his body.

  Against us you have no shield.”

  Aqua light shoots out from my slender hands, heavy with power. The minor spell fails to antagonize the headache. Magic surrounds the AV. The blob rolls and boils as if someone has set a match under it. In a matter of seconds, the AV dissipates like fog under an autumn sun.

  In the blink of an eye, a green haze settles over the wound as Jamison directs his magic. Allinon’s druid skills bring forth a coppery mist rising from the silver liquid, enveloping the lower half of the prince’s body. The mossy cloud intensifies. The mangled flesh melts, beginning to close. The coppery fog thickens as the shimmering liquid evaporates. The grotesque, scarlet wounds, standing out on his alabaster skin, are reduced to the pale pink of a carnation. Steadily his hue darkens to beige.

  Second by second the pattern of the prince’s aura become apparent. Besides a small amount of blue corporeal magic and a strong fuchsia streak, his aura has no affinity for the arcane like his father’s. Whatever talent the purplish streak represents, he was the sole inheritor among his siblings.

  The energy we invoked disperses. I look up from the sentinel I am keeping into the eyes of a young boy. The child doesn’t look scared, horrified, or even slightly disturbed by the sight he has witnessed; against my instructions, I might add. He looks fascinated, in awe, and he is wearing a smile so wide, you would think it was Christmas. In the face of such enthusiasm, my lips curve and my eyes light up.

  I turn my attention back to t
he patient. Before my lips part to ask Jamison if our healing has been successful, Alexandros, the crown prince of Cuthburan, opens his eyes.

  Butterflies take flight in my stomach as he gazes at me with the most gorgeous green eyes I have ever seen, framed by long, thick lashes. Prince Alexandros gives me a weak smile. In a voice rough from disuse, he inquires, “Have I died and gone to heaven? Are you an angel sent to take me to the afterlife?” Having exhausted what little strength we restored to him, Alexandros drifts into sleep.

  Blushing like a teen who received her first kiss, I sit back in my chair. Jamison and Prince Szames lift Prince Alexandros from the tub. Mind whirling, perfunctorily as a sleepwalker, I trail the men, waiting hesitantly at the door to the bedchamber.

  Laying his brother gently back on the pillowed surface of the bed, Prince Szames whispers, “Barely conscious and you have already outmaneuvered me on the battlefield of her heart. No, Brother, I will not fight you for her love, no matter how my heart beats stronger and my blood races when she nears. I am not a fool. I will not wage a war I cannot win. Does not the prophecy foreordain her to be your bride?”

  Though enhanced hearing brings the words clearly to my ears, the sounds are meaningless to my befuddled senses.

  Chapter Three

  Jamison delivers his professional diagnosis: Prince Alexandros will make a full recovery. The others rejoice while I scramble to gather my scattered wits. Come on, Rebecca; get it together. It’s not like you’ve never received a compliment before. Besides, you’re married. Remember! How can you let a gorgeous set of eyes and a come-on line affect you like this?

  Hands trembling, it takes a conscious effort to still them and calm my racing heart. Now I know there’s something else that needs doing. Oh, yeah, thank God I have that improved memory.

  Recovering my senses, I notice Prince Alexandros has been delivered back to his bed. Only the royal family and Merithin remain. The trio is engrossed in an animated discussion. The rest of the visitors from Earth are clumped together in a corner like a herd of frightened sheep.