by Lynn Hardy
“Thank you. I’m relieved to find an ally on this subject. Now it’s my turn?” When he dips his head, I prompt, “I seem to recall a promised recital?”
“The Prophecy of the Flame? Let me give you some background first.” Pushing his plate aside, his tone is somber. “Rikard of Kempmore was in the process of laying the foundation of this city when a group of disciples of the Path of Light journeyed here. They claimed they had been instructed to build a temple. Ever respectful of Andskoti, Rikard finished the area they requested first then left them to their own.
A few years later, as a solitary wing of the castle was finally complete, King Sheldon visited. On the eighth night, the freshly consecrated temple caught fire. A novice priest, Fabrotinn, was trapped inside. He climbed to the bell tower. Flames engulfed him as he shouted with a voice, said to be heard over the entire city. Thus, The Prophecy of the Flame was born.” He pauses to sip the mulled wine provided with dinner.
“‘Hearken to my words: our salvation is revealed by our beloved Andskoti. In the darkest hour, when the fate of mankind is threatened by a great evil, our savior will come with hair aflame, by that you will know him. Change will sweep the land like fire across a summer meadow. Embrace that which is brought, for it will be your only salvation. Magic will rise as the entire fabric of our kingdom is rewoven. Through the bond of marriage, magic will be brought onto the Throne of Cuthburan at last. So I have been shown. So let it be known.’ As the last words were uttered, Fabrotinn was engulfed in flames.” Szames gives a resigned sigh.
Servants place dessert in front of us. I raise my glass, stalling for time. I’m already married! Hell will freeze over before I will marry that… that… pig, prophecy or no! Okay, calm… I’ve gotta remain calm. Think rationally. It’s a prophecy. It could have many meanings, surely.
“You know, all I have read about prophecy says they are a dangerous thing. Often the meaning lies hidden. What seems forthright and obvious can mean something entirely different.” Szames is blank faced, so I continue as we start on dessert. “Take the fact that it seems to describe a man. Perhaps in translating the original, it was assumed any help would come from a man, not a woman. Also, the part about ‘through marriage bonds’ seems, likewise, a simple enough prediction, but there must be a deeper meaning. I am already married.”
Szames chokes on what he is attempting to swallow. “Pardon me. Did you say you are a married woman?”
“For several years now.” I smile at his astonishment.
Incredulous he asks, “Is it one of the men with whom you travel? Do you have children?”
“Unfortunately no to both. Merithin failed to bring Kyle, my husband, when he transferred us. I’m working on a way around the portal law so we can be rejoined. If I can’t find a way around it, I’ll have to return with the others when we’ve completed our mission here.”
Again Szames’s wine seems determined to strangle him. Coughing, he clears his throat. “You are planning on returning to your world?”
I’d better watch when I drop those bombshells, or I might have to practice CPR. “Most likely. If I can’t find a way around this law about portals, I will have to return with those of my group wishing to go home. The way I see it, there’s a good chance the marriage of the prophecy is not my own, but a marriage I set into motion. Perhaps it’s one of the new types of magic I’m introducing to this realm.” I steer us back to the original topic. “Even the most simplistic of predictions can be misleading.”
We return our attention to our dessert. I get a stray feeling from Szames, one of skepticism. It is so strong, it is almost a denial. I need to get the word out that I won’t be marrying Alex before I become a shotgun bride!
“Look, let me be candid with you. I wouldn’t marry your brother for all the gold in your treasury, even if I weren’t already married. He may be an excellent diplomat and turn out to be a wonderful king, but I simply don’t find him to be suitable marriage material.” Szames’s disbelief intensifies.
“I also have no interest in being queen.” Still unconvinced. In desperation I mutter, “And your brother is a narcissistic womanizer.”
“Tell me: Did magic help you figure out my sibling so quickly?” Szames radiates pleasant astonishment before all emotion disappears again.
“Who could fail to recognize him for what he is with his gigantic ego pointing the way?”
A deep chuckle escapes my dinner companion.
“Now that we have that settled, maybe I can get your help? Are you game for a magical experiment?” When Crystal takes our dishes, I ask for the bucket delivered earlier.
“A magical working with rocks?” Szames stares at the contents.
“It doesn’t take much to hold an enchantment.”
He raises his eyebrows, He raises his eyebrows, smiling to let me know that he’s still willing. Taking one of the small river stones in my hand I begin an incantation.
“If with my essence you are placed,
You will afford a ‘saving grace.’
Make a barrier around the skin,
Titanium strong, you’ll be thin.
Also behave as a paladin shield,
Giving an edge on the battlefield.”
My tingling palm opens as magic penetrates the stone, drawing deep inside. The blue light dissipates. The rock turns clear. All of the color withdraws to form a dark core in the center of the translucent stone.
“The stone should slow down incoming attacks as well as forming an almost indestructible shield lying next to the skin. The problem with testing this charm is that a weapon must be trying to injure the wearer of the stone for the effect to be seen.”
“So you need someone to attack?” Szames shrugs. “With the new healing power you have brought, the danger should be minimal.”
“It’s not that simple. The intent must be to injure. I’m not sure I can do that, at least not if I’m holding the weapon. If you’ll remove your mail, I’ll throw one of my knives at you. The blade will then be a weapon intent on harming you.” Use you as a pincushion? “I wish there was another way to test it, but the danger must be real.”
I hand the pebble to the hunky blond. With a smile, he strips off his tabard then his mail. “Let you throw a knife at me? Without my mail? You ask a lot of a dinner guest.” His lopsided smile is contagious.
“Only the ones I like.” My eyes twinkle. “Are you ready?” Pulling a blade from my leg sheath, I hold it by the tip. It feels more than comfortable, like the blade is an extension of my hand. I hope that I can hit what I aim at, too.
“Ready and waiting.” When I hesitate to throw, he asks, “Reba, would it be easier if I closed my eyes?”
“That’s not necessary.” Filling my lungs to capacity, I hurl the knife, praying I won’t see a crimson river flowing from his stomach.
The blade flies true. The knife becomes more visible about two feet from Szames’s midriff as the stone slows the weapon’s momentum. The paladin shield fails to stop the knife. It slices into his padded undershirt. With a thud, the throwing knife hits the floor.
“Are you hurt?” I rush around the table.
Szames pokes his finger into the hole in the material, moving it around. “It cut right through the undershirt but did not even scratch the skin.”
“It worked!” Excitement bubbling over, I grab him by the arm, pulling him over to the bucket. “Szames, when I finish the duplication spell, toss the rock into the pail.”
The replication goes off without a hitch. “If you’ll distribute these among the men, we can make more tomorrow. In a few days, we should have enough for all the troops, maybe even the support staff.”
“You intend to make more than four thousand of these?” His eyes bulge.
I shake my head. “More than five if we can get enough stones.”
“You are handing my kingdom immeasurable power. I am beginning to wonder, what price do you set for your aid?” Although the question sounds suspicious, his tone is friendly enough.
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“All I ask is that your family continues to rule justly with fair consideration to all in the land.” If I could perceive something from him, I could reassure him better.
“That is why you were curious about my brother’s ruling ability?”
“Yes, among other things.” I raise an eyebrow. “Szames, perhaps you’d be willing to relate more of your kingdom’s history to me. Over dinner tomorrow? We could take care of the stones at the same time.”
His blue eyes twinkle. “I would love to dine with you again. However, I insist we keep our evenings for relaxation. Our physicians tell us, in times of stress, we need to set aside a mark or two to recuperate from our duties. Is there perhaps another time when we can take care of the magic stones?”
I shrug. “The rocks are to be delivered to the front gates at sunset. If you meet me, we could take care of them as they arrive.”
“Will a mark after midnight bells suffice for dinner on the morrow?” he asks formally. As I nod my head, he continues. “I have had a delightful evening, Milady Reba. I will see you at sundown.” With bucket in hand, he turns to leave.
Alone in the reception chamber, I meditate on what’s needed for a revised portal spell. With my prefect memory, I begin the enchantment on the egg-sized jewel. Energy streams from me as seconds pass. My hands grow numb as they cradle the gem. Sweat beads on my forehead. The last dregs of my energy complete the enchantment.
Dazedly, I look about the room. That took more energy than I thought it would. I should’ve known. That spell’s a real doozy. Bells toll. The night is now three-quarters done. I crawl into bed, mumbling my nightly ritual.
Chapter Twenty
“Charles the paladin, Master Healer Jamison, Allinon the druid elf, and Jerik the dwarf master smith, I present to you Master Artist Yivgeni. He will chronicle this crusade in paintings and sketches. Yivi has sworn to reveal none of what he sees or hears, except in paintings.”
Yivgeni bows while Jerik’s bushy eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. The others simply nod, ambling into the dining room.
“Reba, placing the awakening spell in the stone was brilliant,” Jamison announces as he crosses the threshold into the secured chamber. “We’ve been able to screen the volunteers before we take them through the process.”
“I wish my first attempt at a disassociated enchantment had gone that well.” While the servants begin setting the table under Crystal’s watchful eye, I reveal my failure.
“But why go through the trouble of using a focus to offset the portal spell? We only need to cast it once.” For the first time, Allinon’s question contains no trace of sarcasm.
“I was hoping I could send correspondence home or even bring out our significant others. At the church today, I found out our job doesn’t end with the Great Battle, as they are now calling it. It appears a gateway has been constructed between this world and the demonic realm. We’ve been instructed to travel on a circular route around our position until we find it.”
“Hey now, I agreed to break the siege, not to be a crusading hero. I’ve got a kid I want to see grow up.” Charles is adamant. “I didn’t sign up for a two-year tour! Little Momma, who gave you these instructions?”
“Their god, Andskoti.” Yivgeni chokes on his drink, reminding me of his presence. I pop a bite of sausage into my mouth while I wait for the shock to wear off.
“You’re joking, right?” Allinon puts a stranglehold on the irritation I sense bubbling up within him. Seeing no way around it, I relay the details of the entire encounter.
“That’s heavy, man.” Jamison lapses into English then continues in Cuthburish. “You’re a Christian, and he recognized you as one of God’s children? It looks like we’re in for a little campaigning.”
“There’s no way!” Seething with emotion, Charles slips into English, spitting each word out as if it is covered in bile. “We were brought here against our will. I won’t do it.”
“Reba, you have got to find a way around that law or take us home after the battle.” The honest sincerity in Allinon’s voice rattles me almost as much as the shiver of premonition making chilly tracks up my spine. “My wife will declare me dead if I’m missing for more than a couple of weeks.”
I continue the trend, sticking to my native tongue. “I think a vote is in order. This is a decision affecting the entire group. There’s no guarantee I can find a way around their First Law of Magic. But let me tell you, I don’t think they’ll win the battle for the gateway without us. My vote is for staying until we finish the job. Jamison, how ‘bout you?” Jamison agrees with me, and Charles votes no. The icy fingers of fate refuse to release their hold on the back of my neck.
“This isn’t our war. We weren’t asked to join.” Allinon can’t give a yes or no; he delivers a speech. “We were taken from our world. As for bringing those we love out… well, with their different perspective on morals, I’d think twice about testing the strength of your wedding vows. I vote for going home after the battle.”
“My vote will be the tie breaker.” Jerik’s quiet voice lacks its usual boom. “I say we compromise. No one should be forced to fight against their will, but we also can’t leave these people with a war half won.”
Allinon glares daggers at Jerik, “Compromise!”
Jerik ignores the elf, “Reba, let’s do one circuit around the castle, take eight days to a couple of weeks. If we haven’t found the gate, those of us that wish to leave should be sent then.”
Allinon folds his arms across his chest, refusing to capitulate.
Jerik’s voice turns hard, “Or I could vote we stay until the war is won because I wan’t my new country to be demon free.”
Charles’s mouth drops open, “Shortstack, you… you can’t be serious. You’re stayin’?”
“You’ve got a wife,” I plead with him to reconsider. “There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to cast the spell a second time. I told you what happened with my first attempt. I’ll try with the emerald, but if I don’t find a solution before I leave, you’ll be stranded for who knows how long.”
A long breath escapes the short man. “We’re separated. I have nothin’ to go home to. When I’m workin’ in the forge, it fits like nothin’ ever has. I’m stayin’.”
I turn to the rest of the band. “I can’t agree to abandon these people right after the battle. I can’t explain it, but I know there is something else I have to do. I see no other choice but to agree to the proposed compromise. If the rest of you will stay and fight until we have completed at least one round of the area surrounding the city, you have my word that I will take home any who want to go, at that time.” The men agree to the revised plan.
“How’d your morning outing go?” I ask the smallest and the tallest members of our party. “Since I didn’t get a call, I assume it was clear of demonkind?”
“Now it is.” Allinon smirks. “Demons were hiding in a cave that’d been hollowed out by the river. My nature affinity sensed the wrongness of their evil.” The elf opens his palm on the table as if revealing a secret locked within. “Most people underestimate the power of an entangle enchantment.” Slowly he closes it into a fist.
Jerik harrumphs. “Entangle? It looked more like a jungle. The entire bend was writhing with flora.”
“Sounds like you two took care of the problem.” I proceed with the morning’s business. “How are the women coming along?”
“Three more women reported in yesterday.” Charles gives an update on the battle training. “One has a thief’s skill with knives. The other two have some basic training with blades. Between me and Allinon, in a week’s time, we might have them trained up enough that they won’t hurt themselves.” Charles frowns as he contemplates the ladies in battle. “More than that, I can’t promise.”
“That Andrayia, on the other hand, she’s something.” Allinon’s optimistic view makes me wonder if perhaps he and Charles swapped bodies in the night. “With the titanium sword you made, she’s quick. I’d say her ability
is equal to or better than that of the men we trained.”
“If you think they can handle it, I can copy your skills to the women. I can also give them Andrayia’s equipment…”
“You mean give them our knowledge? You could do that?” Charles’s good nature reasserts itself.
I nod, shifting topics. “Allinon, I should be ready for you and any druid students by midafternoon. Jamison, I can stop by tomorrow evening to enchant the sashes; they’ll give your guys some extra protection. I’ll have some of those paladin stones delivered to you, but not until after dinner. Is there anything we missed?”
“How ‘bout that prophecy?” Charles’s eyes twinkle devilishly. “Didn’t you have a line on that, Sweet Momma?”
With a sigh, I recite the verses Szames revealed to me. The room is as quiet as snow on a frigid December morning as I finish the ominous-sounding litany.
“Whee-ew, so you’re here to save the world and become queen. Are you sure you want to leave?” Charles is half joking.
“Come on, don’t tell me you took the bait.” I beseech the most logical of our group, “Jamison, you at least must be able to see through all the smoke and mirrors?”
“Well, since the prophecy is over two hundred years old and has obviously been translated at least once, it could have many possible meanings.”
I grin.
The healer continues before I can get my hopes too high. “But if enough people believe in one interpretation, they could have enough power between them to make what is expected to happen come to pass.” The smile slides from my face. “That is the danger in a prophecy that’s so popular.”
“You guys have to help me spread the word. There’s no way I’m going to marry that conceited, egotistical, male chauvinist they call a crown prince. He has all the morals of a rutting elk and wants to make me part of his herd.” In a hushed snarl, I add, “On top of that he seems to have some sort of Don Juan ability that makes me want to forget I’ve got a husband.”
“Are you sure it’s not those broad shoulders and those baby blues of his?” Charles gives his best leer.
