Prophecy of the Flame

by Lynn Hardy

  I add a couple of wedges of cheese and a slice of bread. They’ve even got that tasty cheese spread we had earlier. It tastes like a cross between sweet butter and parmesan cheese. I pour myself a cup of water. Seeing no silverware except a pile of knives, I help myself to one of those and a napkin before moving off to one side.

  Will it offend anyone if I take a chair before the royals? A loud rumbling emanates from my midriff. I can’t eat standing here. Besides, I feel like a fool holding this heaping plate.

  I set the cup on the ground beside me as Prince Szames approaches, carrying a fully loaded plate. “Milady Archmage Reba, may I join you?” A curve of his lips suggests approval of my position.

  “Please do.” I motion to the chair beside me. “Actually, I was hoping to get a chance to speak with you. Would it be inappropriate to discuss business over a meal?”

  “Are all women on your world this direct, or are you unique?” Embarrassment tinges my cheeks. The prince qualifies the statement, “I ask not out of offense. It is not typical behavior in our society, for either men or women.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve lucked out.” I grin as my slang gets a puzzled look. “I am considered somewhat blunt, even on my world. Please tell me, is my directness inappropriate?”

  Szames answers my question with true royal grace. “Inappropriate? Perhaps. But I believe our current situation warrants a change in what we consider appropriate. I, myself, find it refreshing.” I get a fleeting impression of attraction—or is it admiration?—before my empathy is once again blank, not even registering the man before me.

  “I’m relieved you’re flexible on the issue. I have no patience for pleasantries when an important matter is at hand. Which brings me to the issue I mentioned earlier: I believe I have a way to secure the castle and the city from the demons. It will require a great deal of magical energy. More than I possess.” I wish I could get more than a stray feeling from him… “If you can be spared from your duties, I could use your assistance.”

  Seeing a brief look of puzzlement, I expound. “Even though you don’t seem to be able to access it, your aura still holds a tremendous amount of magical energy. We worked well together in the healing of Prince Alexandros. This means you’ll be an easy source from which to draw.” I perceive such awe or fear from everyone else, it may take more energy to draw magic out of them than I can spare. “Between the two of us, I should be able to surround the castle in a spell that will keep the enemy at bay for days, maybe octals.” I use the Cuthburish term indicating eight consecutive days.

  I wait for his reply, trying to eat with all the manners of my middle-class upbringing. Maybe I should have magicked up some forks. Eating with only a knife is a pain.

  The food is so tasty that after a few bites, my appetite comes alive. I have to restrain myself from shoveling in food with both hands. The fowl tastes like the expected chicken, of course. The vegetables are scrumptious. I especially love the ones that look like a long-limbed cauliflower. It tastes like a cross between broccoli and cauliflower, two vegetables I adore.

  “Prince Szames, Archmage Reba, may I join you?” Merithin waits for the slightest of nods from Prince Szames before taking a seat.

  The prince turns to me. “You intend to encompass the entire city in a spell? I would think it will require more energy than we have between us two, especially if you intend it to have enough strength to keep out the number of demons who are bound to attack once they see magic acting as a defense.”

  You look like a brawny football player, but please, don’t go all pig-headed jock-like on me. “The enchantment is a variation of one commonly used to contain attackers. I don’t think I can explain the principles of the spell in your tongue. The single obstacle I see standing in my way is time. If the energy we have is going to be sufficient, we’ll need to make a complete circuit around the entire city, preferably as close to the surrounding wall as we can get. Will we be able to accomplish this before dark?” Come on, use your head. A few hours ago, you didn’t know magic could heal someone.

  “We will be able to walk around the city on the wall, but if we are to complete a circle before nightfall, we must begin soon. It will take the better part of a day. Midmorning is upon us.” Doubt still colors Prince Szames’s voice.

  “If you are unavailable to accompany us, may I take a look at your men to choose those who have an aura suitable for the task at hand?”

  Szames smiles. “One of the benefits of my position is administration. There is very little I cannot delegate if necessary. It will be an honor to assist you in forming the spell which will protect our city.”

  Turning to his squire, Prince Szames continues. “Harold, please tell Arms Master Stezen to meet me in the stables in a half-mark.” He switches his attention back to me. “Archmage Reba, how many of your men will accompany us?”

  I make my first command decision. “Allinon and Jamison are needed here, but both Jerik and Charles will act as an escort.”

  “Merithin, will you also be joining us?”

  Merithin nods.

  Prince Szames turns back to Harold, who has finished the food on his plate like a starving wolf. The squire stands ready to receive the rest of his instructions. “See that the stable master has six horses readied.”

  Harold gives a brief dip from the waist before he hastens on his way.

  A fleeting look of surprise steals across the prince’s face as he looks at my empty plate, betraying a little of what he feels. “If you are ready, Archmage Reba.”

  Placing the cup on the platter, I rise from my chair. “Yes, Prince Szames, I am. If we have a moment, I wish to speak with the others before we leave.”

  I look to the most reasonable of our group first. “Jamison, I must leave the wounded to you if the walls are going to be secured from the demons by nightfall.” At the word demons Jamison’s eyebrows lift. “Will you let the elf in on our plans?”

  With a knowing smile, he shrugs. “Sure. We will take care of this end. You do what you have to. By the end of the day, we’ll all be exhausted, but with any luck, none will be left in critical condition and this city will be safe.”

  Spotting the others in a corner near the buffet table, I make a beeline to the warriors. “Jerik, Charles, if you’re ready, we will leave for the outer-wall encircling the city. I intend to have the entire populace surrounded by a force field by nightfall. The majority of my magical resources will be tied up in the spell-casting for the duration of the excursion. Your protection will be invaluable.” I hope their fighting abilities are incorporated into their new forms.

  “Finally, a chance at some action. How soon do we leave?” Charles’s boyish enthusiasm is practically flexing his new muscles.

  Prince Szames, Merithin, and Squire Robert are waiting by the door. “Immediately,” I command, spinning on my heel and striding for the entryway.

  Chapter Five

  Exiting the building, Merithin and the prince lead with the squire trailing a respectful two feet behind and to the prince’s left. Tramping back through the barracks, we continue on a path parallel to the keep. To my right is the wall surrounding the castle. I am too far away to make out any detail or even guess at the height.

  Charles and Jerik have taken up positions to either side of me. I address both at a volume I am sure won’t carry to the others. For added security, I use our native tongue. “I had a talk with the prince about what we’re facing.” How do I tell them we are up against demons? Actual tooth-and-claw, fanged, and flying demons?

  “Well, out with it. Can’t be all bad…” Jerik grumbles as the silence stretches out.

  “I guess you really need to know. When they say we are facing ‘demons,’ they literally mean demons. It’s not a figure of speech.” My nostrils flare and my brows draw down. I work up the nerve to add, “They have claws and fangs, they fly, and they attack at night.”

  “Dawg, dat is off da chain! Real-life demons!” Charles crows, “We get to slice and dice some real monst
ers!”

  He’s got way too much testosterone. “They arn’t beasts out of some fairy tale. This is your worst nightmare. Some are huge monsters, while others poison you with a mere scratch, and most of their claws cut through armor as if it is homespun wool.”

  Charles’s coal black eyes grow in diameter while I describe our foes.

  I give a grunt of satisfaction. “We’ve got to overhaul this kingdom’s weapons, armor, and equipment, not to mention fighting techniques, if we are going to stand a chance of surviving the first battle.”

  Jerik’s response is as direct as the hammer he will wield. “With the help of the smithy, I’ll reinforce their weapons with a dwarven enchantment. It’ll increase the strength and sharpness of any edge. With over five thousand men, it will take me a week at least.”

  “A week? Jerik that would be handling a sword every minute or two. This is real life, not World of WarCraft.”

  “I’m a dwarf. I can work sixteen hours a day instead of the usual ten.”

  “Great. That means a sword every three to five minutes. You’re that good, really?”

  Color rises on the short man’s cheeks. “Okay, okay already. The dwarven enchantment is a stout one, but one that is easily applied. I just have to hit a warm blade with a stroke of the hammer. With the castle smiths helping to heat the blades, all I need to do is swing and mutter the spell. How long will that force field of yours last?”

  Mouth agape, I find myself unable to respond. I am overcome by the grandeur of the sight before me. A beautiful woman in flowing robes is the centerpiece of the fountain we are passing. She stands in a marble garden of blossoming flowers. Past the figure, blue-gray marbled granite creates fanned steps to frame the main entrance of Castle Eldrich. The stone is smooth and has the flowing pattern of marble but with the hardened consistency of granite. It must be a rock native to this world.

  We advance down the gravel path opposite where we have come. As we exit the foreground to the palace, the beauty of the sculpture makes me reexamine the situation. “If there’s any kind of intelligence coordinating these demons, the defense won’t last much more than a week. But you should have at least seven days.” The monumental size of the task in front of us is daunting: useless armor, an army with record-low morale, and only one other sorcerer with his apprentice for magical support. I hope this is one doozy of a prophecy everyone keeps mumbling about. Lord knows we need the help!

  The unmistakable fragrance of horse brings me out of my musings. Closer now, I identify the large building as the stables. The barn is complete with a door to the hayloft above a double-gated entrance.

  A grizzled old man and two boys are leading several mounts from the shadowed doorway, tying them to the hitching post out front. The prince angles us toward the soldiers waiting beside the barn. The uniformed men bow, straightening as we come to a halt before them.

  “Archmage Reba, Master Smith Jerik, and Paladin Charles, this is Lieutenant Craig and Arms Master Stezen.” Szames makes the formal introductions. Both men bow in my direction. The elder gentleman joins us while the boys continue bringing out saddled mounts.

  “Your Highness.” The stable master reeks of alcohol and is unsteady as he bows. “Your horses will be ready directly.”

  “Thank you, Mik. Stezen, ride with us to Westgate.” The prince’s curt tone makes it more of an order than a question, but softens as he turns to me. “Archmage Reba, do you require time in which to prepare for the spell-casting?”

  “This particular enchantment is a variation of one I’m already familiar with. The ride to the outer wall should be sufficient for making the necessary adjustments.” Pausing, I cock my head to one side. “Lieutenant Craig has an aura with a large reservoir of corporeal energy. If he has no objections to magical workings, I would like for him to accompany us around the city in case I have misjudged the energy required for this spell.”

  Intuition tells me it is approval I see in Prince Szames’s eyes as he pronounces, “Lieutenant Craig, how are you disposed toward magic?”

  “Your Highness, I’ve not formed an opinion one way or t’other,” Craig states with a more relaxed style of Cuthburish, sounding something like a country drawl, “but any request coming from a beauty such as this I won’t be refusin’.”

  Prince Szames’s voice has a hint of a scowl as he commands, “Find a horse. We leave for Westgate.” The prince gestures toward a mare who looks so old, she is probably days away from the glue factory. “Archmage Reba, if you will allow me the honor of assisting you?”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. If you will hold my staff, I believe I can ascend on my own.” Because I’m a woman he saddles me with a nag?

  Having both hands available, I take a closer look at my robe. An overlapping flap hides a row of buttons. Undoing the robe to the waist gives me a little more freedom of movement.

  My lips compress into a thin line of determination. If I prove I’m no greenhorn, maybe next time I can get a horse that doesn’t look like it will die on us before we finish the job. With a controlled jump, I plant my left foot in the stirrup. I straighten my knee, throwing the other leg over the saddle, which is missing the Western horn.

  My new and improved muscles are good for more than walking. I could’ve vaulted into place. My coordination has increased tenfold. The reins in one hand and my staff in the other, I watch the others mount. Jerik stands rock solid. Fists on hips, he glares at the stirrup hanging just below his chin.

  Edging my mount up close to his, I frown with the concentration it takes to put a stranglehold on the bubbling laughter threatening to spew forth. “Having difficulty?”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” He grumps. “You know, I’ve ridden a few times. I claim no great skill in horsemanship, but this time it is different. Looking at this animal turns my stomach.”

  Continuing, his voice drops to a menacing whisper, “Dwarves aren’t known for their love of ponies, much less full-size horses. Where long distances are concerned, I could outdo even a pack mule. Is it necessary that I humiliate myself by riding this animal?”

  A chuckle escapes me. “I’m afraid so. We need to complete a circuit of the city by dark. Every minute counts. Hold still. I’ll spell you into the saddle.”

  “While you’re at it, you might as well shorten those stirrups,” Jerik grouses.

  “Dwarven you are and your legs show

  the lack

  For placing you with grace upon a

  horse’s back.

  With magic I’ll aid you, help you out,

  Even shorten stirrups, without a doubt.”

  Jerik’s eyes pop open when azure mist surrounds him. The chains binding my self-control shatter. Raucous laughter escapes in a flood as the magic lifts him into the air. The stirrups, having shrunk, are now child sized.

  “Ha, ha, very funny,” Jerik grumbles. “We’ll see whose legs are lacking halfway around the city.”

  “I’m sorry.” Schooling my expression, I try to rein in my laughter. “But you should have seen your face!” Chuckling, I add, “I didn’t know you had such big eyes under those bushy brows.”

  I notice the prince has concluded his discussion with Squire Harold. The rest of the group is waiting on us. I straighten in the saddle, gesturing my readiness. Prince Szames takes the lead with Arms Master Stezen beside him. Lieutenant Craig joins Merithin, who is riding behind the prince. Jerik and Charles take up positions to my right and left as we head toward the barracks at a fast trot. In a matter of minutes, we are in sight of the main gateway to Castle Eldrich.

  The wall surrounding the castle is cut from stone identical to the main keep, a blue-gray marbled granite. Like redwoods squared and trussed together, the gates are colossal. Hinged metal beams run the entire length of each gate, acting as support. Pairs of soldiers stationed to either side of the entrance come to attention as we travel through. That wall is made of solid blocks!

  Leaving the castle grounds, we hang a right. The street is cobbleston
e and broad. Two and three-story mansions line the avenue. A few of the estates are constructed from the same stone as the castle, but most are wood structures like the barracks. Each dwelling that doesn’t have a massive wall surrounding it has a stone-lined walkway trailing through a manicured courtyard. In the quiet street, a score of people are rushing about like a herd of whitetail evading a pack of hyenas. Traversing the disquieted metropolis, the tension I sense from the people hurrying from this place to that or hiding behind locked doors begins to try my patience. It is like angry bees swarming around me. I keep waiting for a sting.

  Surprisingly enough, the horse’s gait isn’t as bad as I expected, although she does have a packhorse mentality. Sticking her nose in the tail of Craig’s mount, she needs no encouragement from me to follow his lead. One advantage of being stuck with a nag: it affords me an excellent opportunity to develop the force-field spell into something capable of protecting an entire city.

  Placing my trust in the docile mare, I put the staff between my leg and the stirrup then block out the world around me. With the ease of a superior autobiographical memory, I go over the spell I developed for the role-playing game.

  That should work. I refocus on the world about me. How did something as big as that castle get away from me so quickly? The horizon has no trace of the monolithic building.

  The streets are broad. The houses remind me of condominiums. They are stacked like sardines in a can. What differentiates one from the other are signs and an occasional picture window. The advertisements are unexpectedly artistic, standing out brightly against unbleached wood. One shop has several gowns displayed in the window and a wooden plaque showing a large spool of crimson thread. Squinting, I see chicken scratches I assume are words, printed neatly under the picture.

  The outer wall looms before us. It takes minutes to reach the three-story structure. The fortification is made up of dark, marbled granite, cobalt in color, which seems to be the foundation of the city. The guard station is an extension of the wall itself, constructed from the same stone as the rest of the castle and its fortifications. Twenty feet square, the sentry post continues up the side of the wall. It ends above the battlement, where it serves as a sheltering overhang.