Prophecy of the Flame

by Lynn Hardy

  A few long strides bring me to them. “Jamison, didn’t the prince mention something about over two hundred wounded? You don’t have the strength to heal them all, but I was thinking: How long will it take to teach the basic technique to a group of physicians already trained in the mundane herbal methods?”

  “With the gift and some knowledge of how the body works, it wouldn’t take long. Once I show them how to access magic, I could demonstrate on a couple of the patients with them following along. Most would be able to pick up enough of what’s needed to stabilize the majority of the injured.” Jamison’s brow furrows. “But they’ve never heard of using magic for healing. Surely if someone had the gift, they would have figured out how to use it by now.”

  Words come fast and quick in my excitement. “I studied your link with Princess Szeanne Rose. There’s a barrier set around her inner reservoir of power. Something is restraining her magic, yet it still let you access it. I’m betting with the right spell, I can bring down the obstruction. Then the princess can detect and use her own gift.”

  Jamison gets a second wind of enthusiasm. “Well, what are we standing around here for? Lives may be lost with each minute wasted! Allinon, do you feel up to breaking down another batch of food for a healing potion?”

  “I can do better than that.” Allinon smirks. “Reba wasn’t the only one paying close attention to our first healing session. I watched the way you handled that AV. It’s similar to how I broke down the food. If there are any more people suffering from that malignancy, my druid skills will exorcise it.”

  Without a backward glance, Allinon strides to where the prince, princess, and Merithin stand. The king must have left for the council meeting. I follow. Failing to wait for royal acknowledgment, our leader interrupts the conversation, “Pardon me, Prince Zam-zes? You mention having other wounded?”

  A look of surprise steals across the prince’s face. The rebel in me delights in seeing the royal façade of total confidence broken, even if it is just for a minute.

  Prince Szames rushes his words in his haste to assist. “Yes, of course. The wounded are being kept in the new barracks where the healers can better tend to them.” The prince turns to me. “Milady Archmage Reba, should I have another tub of food assembled?”

  “Another tub is exactly what I have in mind.” I dart a glance in Allinon’s direction. I fight a smile when I see the elf’s irritated grimace. Hastily I fill the prince in on the rest of our needs.

  Allinon jumps in as soon as the list is complete. “Your physicians are another thing I wish to discuss with you. With your permission, Reba may be able to help your people access their gift so they will be able to heal as Jamison does. Princess, I believe you have a somatic affinity. If you wish, Reba can open up the channels to release the gift you have within you. You have knowledge of herbal healing and how the human body works. Jamison will be able to teach you the basics of wielding your magic, making it possible for you to assist him in healing the wounded.” His speech is halted with the openmouthed surprise of Princess Szeanne Rose. Her lack of composure is not at all humorous, for she does not attempt to regain it.

  Oh please! Don’t tell me it’s against protocol for her to be seen with soldiers, even for healing! “I apologize, Your Highness, if we have transgressed some rule of propriety.” Turning to Prince Szames, I continue, “Some of your physicians might also have the healing gift, Jamison will be able to train all who possess even the slightest affinity for somatic magic.”

  “Milady Archmage Reba, I will have the physicians assembled in the foyer of the barracks at once. If you will give me a moment to dispatch my page for the needed supplies, we will be on our way.” With a quick bow, Szames excuses himself.

  “Archmage Reba, are you saying… I mean, could it be…there may be those who possess the incredible power Master Healer Jamison wielded in the healing of my brother?” Princess Szeanne Rose stammers into the brief silence, her voice a mere whisper. “That I may possess such ability?”

  I nod affirmatively.

  She continues. “Men have died. Many more lie sorely wounded and may die before the day ends. If the power lies within me to save another’s life, as you have spared Alexandros’s, I feel it would be a great wrong not to use it.”

  I take this opportunity to reexamine the woman standing before me. She is gowned in a finely woven material with a satin sheen to it. The garment is tight fitting from the neck to the waist. Not as broad as the Southern belle dress I wore to the senior prom, but there is some fullness to the floor-length skirts. The attire is a somber brown, providing a perfect contrast to her peaches-and-cream complexion. Her golden locks are pulled back into a tight braid.

  The whole ensemble speaks of the seriousness with which she regarded the duty she undertook while caring for Prince Alexandros. I feel the compassion and the truth of the words she has spoken, as if an echo surrounds her.

  “Your Highness, I cannot guarantee the success of the spell that will let you access the healing gift within you, for I am unfamiliar with the laws of magic governing your world. But I can promise you this: If my attempt is unsuccessful, it will not be harmful. You already have a basic knowledge of the human body. If your gift is activated, then you will be able to heal as Jamison has. It requires focus and concentration to use healing magic, along with knowledge of the problem. With time and practice, if your skill increases to equal Jamison’s, the difference in power will not be great enough to matter. Do you wish me to release your gift?”

  She utters a single, affirmative syllable in response.

  “You must relax as you did when we healed your brother. Listen to the rhyme and rhythm of my words. Clear your mind of everything except your desire to heal others.”

  “The magic is within you; I feel its power.

  We need its force in this desperate hour.

  Respond to her will after my touch

  Unless it will cause her harm or such.”

  Feeling pins and needles as if my arms have gone to sleep, I graze the woman’s forehead with my fingertip. My cerulean energy surrounds the core of her power. The mystical force within the princess expands slightly, brightening as Prince Szames approaches. I compress my eyes against the tide of pain seeping into my brain.

  “We can add one more healer to our list of assets?” The prince’s smile is tight and approving. “With scores of wounded men, your help will be needed.”

  Jamison joins the group, handing my knife back to me. “Your Highness.” He nods to Prince Szames before instructing his new student. “Princess Szeanne Rose, if you will pick an object. Reba’s knife will be excellent. Now focus on the knife. Block out everything but the knife.” After a pause he continues. “Keeping the blade in view, try to focus on the space behind it. When you see the blue-green light surrounding the blade, give a push from the power you sense within. This will activate healer’s sight.”

  “Oh!” Princess Szeanne Rose gasps, closing her eyes. “I must have pushed too hard.” She quickly schools her composure. “Archmage Reba, you are surrounded by the most brilliant rainbow of colors. The blues are so bright, they seem to dance! That is the ‘aura’ you mentioned earlier?” I nod and she looks to her teacher. “Jamison, you are completely green. Such beautiful shades too.”

  I chuckle as Jamison’s cheeks brighten. “Your Highness, somehow I don’t think you’ll have any problem picking up the basics.” I hand my knife to Jamison. “The numbing aspect of this blade will be helpful in your work. Prince Szames, if you will lead the way, I look forward to seeing if any others possess a dormant gift.”

  “As do I,” Prince Szames agrees. “Archmage Reba, if you and your men will follow me.”

  Allinon’s jaw drops at the reference to my leadership. I suppress a chuckle. Jamison rushes to hold the door for the princess and me. Being a newbie, he sure has picked up on the manners of the age pretty quick. Or could it be that Jamison has another interest?

  Allinon brushes past me, almost running to
the prince’s side. Why do I feel like we are rushing headlong into danger? What am I missing?

  “You doing ok with the side effects?” Jamison probes before adding, “Not that I’ve examined you or anything.”

  “I could use an aspirin.” I smile at my comrade.

  The healer’s touch brings welcome relief. Turning to Jamison as we start down the hallway, I explore aloud the new idea, “Jamison, do you know the Hippocratic Oath?”

  “I was due to take it in six months. I’ve been going over it for weeks now.” Jamison catches my mood so quickly, it seems as if we have known each other for years rather than hours. “Okay, out with it. You’re on to, something, aren’t you?”

  Still organizing my thoughts, seconds pass before I respond, “You know the old saying, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’? Let me tell you, I’m feeling that weight. We are about to create a whole new type of magic, the likes of which this world has never seen. Neither has ours, for that matter.

  Are we releasing something into this unsuspecting paradise that is more destructive than the enemy we’re facing? The doctors of our world must pledge the Hippocratic Oath before they can wield their skills. With the power we are giving them, shouldn’t we have something more than a simple oath?” With all the talents we possess, surely there is some safeguard we can impose.

  “Jeez… it never dawned on me that someone would use healing maliciously.” Jamison pauses as we turn yet another corner in the meandering trail of halls through which Szames is leading us. Looking up, I realize I have no clue where we are. I should’ve asked for a better sense of direction for my character!

  Mulling over Jamison’s words, the answer to our dilemma pops out at me. “Jamison, that’s it!” I bark, “Can you come up with a version of the oath for these people?”

  “Sure, no problemo. Would something like this do? ‘I swear, by the god I hold sacred, that I will serve my king and kingdom in their best interest. I shall not refuse my services to one in need nor will I use my powers in harmful ways… etcetera, etcetera…” He gives me a mock glare as I grin. “Now give it up. What’s churning inside that head of yours?”

  Hastily I fill my comrade in on the details and the role he will play.

  “It’s perfect!” he crows. “Now we can use any available power without worrying about a loose cannon running around.”

  We share a grin. The healer cocks his head to one side. “Since Allinon will handle the AV, I assume after the initiation you’ll start to work on a magical defense for the castle?” Jamison shakes his head with a wry twist of his lips. “If they lost ten percent of their men in one battle, I’d say their defenses are in need of an upgrade.” Does he have to be so confident that I’ll have a solution to everything?

  Our fast pace brings us to the servants’ quarters. The hallway is narrow. The doors are crowded close together. The lanterns are so sparsely placed that dark pools litter the corridor. Unable to see in the dim lighting, Jamison stumbles over a rough patch on the wooden floors. I step nimbly over the uneven boards. It must be the mage thing. Aren’t all magic-users supposed to be able to see in the dark almost as well as daylight?

  My mind worries over Jamison’s question as we approach the end of the hallway. Sunlight shines through cracks around the door. The brightness emphasizes the gloom in this section of the castle. A small figure waits by the exit, holding several garments. Szames and Allinon turn so we can huddle into a group as much as the constrictive foyer will allow.

  “Archmage Reba, here are cloaks.” Prince Szames offers, “The walk to the barracks is not long, but spring has not yet taken a firm hold on the land. The weather is still quite bitter, especially this early in the day.”A blast of chill wind sweeps inside as he opens the door.

  Charles reaches for a cloak. “Whew! This mail feels like a block of ice strapped to my chest.”

  Thank God he spoke in English! I hustle up beside him as we exit. “We are seasoned warriors remember? Think tough, macho, football player,” I reprimand him in our native tongue. “Would a little cold bother them?” I pull up the cowl on my robe. “I’m beginning to appreciate choosing a mage for my gaming character. This robe is enchanted to maintain a constant temperature in a field surrounding my body.” Field surrounding, protecting… hmm.

  Turning to the paladin, I give his arm an impulsive hug. “Charles, I could kiss you! You’re a genius.” That mail really is cold!

  “Who me? What’d I do? But, hey… if it’s lovin’ you want, a charming knight like me would never pass up a little lip smackin’ from a hottie, even if she is a witch!” Charles’s silky voice teases me with a Cheshire cat grin and a rise of his handsome eyebrows.

  Now that sounds like the Eric I know! “Better watch it, princeling, or this witch will turn you into a toad and have some fun seeing if there are any fair maids willing to kiss your warty hide!” I chuckle, aiming a mock swing in his direction.

  The air is brisk. The day outside is bright. I love the smell of wood stoves. What a beautiful day. Looking ahead, I analyze the state of the king’s army by the quarters they keep.

  Six large, wooden structures stand in three parallel lines with two buildings in every row. Each construction is a precise rectangle, making them appear modern. The quarters have no glass in the windows. Each immense, three-story structure has eight large chimneys from which continual streams of smoke pour. Drawing closer, I can make out the individual logs framing the outside walls. They are so straight, they look like manufactured siding. Squinting against the wind, I notice the smooth finish, like sanded wood.

  With living quarters this advanced, surely they’ve made similar progress elsewhere. What kind of army can cause such damage to an advanced medieval culture? I lengthen my stride, coming up on the other side of the prince.

  “Excuse me, Your Highness. Is now a good time to find out a little more about your… er… our strategic situation?” I wish I’d paid more attention to protocol at the renaissance festival.

  “I will be happy to answer any questions you have, though our knowledge of the Demons is limited.” His smile seems genuine.

  “How many men make up the besieging army? Are they more advanced in—”

  “Men? Humph! If we were facing mere men, our situation would not be this dire.” With a crinkle in his brow, Prince Szames continues. “Milady, you believe we are facing an ordinary army? An army such as we house in these barracks?” He gestures to the buildings. “An army made up of human flesh and bone?”

  The arrogance! Is it because I’m a woman, or is it a princely superiority complex and his male ego that makes him think I am so simple-witted that I need to be hand fed? Well, two can play at that game.

  I keep a tight rein on my Irish temper, modifying my bitter tone to something more reasonable. “Often when people are faced with an enemy whose tactics and weaponry are foreign to all they know, whose appearance is startlingly different from what they are used to, they believe their foes are demonic monsters. In reality, they are men who have evolved different customs, beliefs, and traditions, forming an unusual, even bizarre, culture. But they aren’t demons, just immensely different. If you have a sketch of the invaders, I will try to dispel this notion of demons. The revelation should restore the army’s morale.”

  The six barracks are behind us as we pass between two elongated, single-story buildings. The aroma emanating from the structures identifies them as the mess hall. Another large, single-story structure, V shaped with a square portion common to both wings, faces us. The exterior looks exactly the same as the other buildings, yet intuition tells me this is the new addition.

  The prince takes no offense at my obtuse reply. “Archmage Reba, I am afraid we have somewhat of a miscommunication. When I use the term ‘Demon,’ it is with no metaphorical reference. We believe a sorcerer has opened a portal to another dimension. He may have stabilized it somehow. As you have stated, this other world has developed differently from ours. Of those who attacked, some ha
d wings and flew, some were more than ten times our size, and some burrowed underground. All had claws and fangs, which shredded our armor like a hot knife through a wax seal. And none have been sighted except at night.”

  Oh my dear God, actual demons! Like from Hell, demons! What have we gotten ourselves into? Swallowing hard to cover my loss of composure, I ask a question I am sure he has already contemplated. “You mean there’s a mage, excuse me, a sorcerer who is foolish enough to make a portal connection with a dimension that is demonic in nature?”

  Prince Szames sighs as he reaches for the door. “Milady Archmage Reba, that seems to be the case.”

  Chapter Four

  Entering behind Princess Szeanne Rose, I am able to conduct a full examination of the physicians as they bow in the presence of royalty. It is a mixed group. Most of the fifteen or so men are older than I, except for a couple of youths gathered in one corner. Other than the requested tub of food; a large, sturdy-looking table; and several chairs lining one side of the plain timber walls, the room is as stripped of essentials as is a nudist colony.

  “Your Highness, Princess Szeanne Rose.” A gray-bearded gentleman at the front of the crowd bows, rigid with formality. He continues as the princess gives a slight inclination of her head. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

  “Your Highness, Prince Szames.” He bows again as Prince Szames enters. His eyes goggle as first Jerik then Allinon file in behind the raven-skinned Charles. The four-and-a-half-foot Jerik can’t be mistaken for a child with his broad shoulders and long arms, not to mention the six-inch braided beard. His shortness highlights Allinon’s seven-foot stature. The elf towers over Prince Szames, who seems tall for men on this world. “Can it be true? By your presence here, I assume the rumors must be true. Has Prince Alexandros been healed of his grievous wounds?”

  “Yes, my brother will make a full recovery. Archmage Reba, I present to you Master Physician Tupper,” Prince Szames performs the formal introduction. “Tupper, are any wounded in imminent danger of passing?”