Prophecy of the Flame

by Lynn Hardy

  “I have put much thought into this very matter, Prince Szames. The way I see it, we need considerably more than pikes.” I outline the ideas I have been forming. Silence envelops the room like a black hole. I conclude by saying, “The enemy is superior in both armaments and in strength. I see this plan as the sole solution to our survival.” The room erupts.

  “We have had a treaty with Kypros for centuries. It forbids magical warfare,” Count Baulyard expounds.

  “It defies honor to use a strategy like that on the battlefield!” Duke Rokroa shouts to be heard over the count.

  “We should hide, cowering, behind our mothers’ skirts?” chimes in Marques Vinfastur.

  “You want us to lure them like a fisherman baiting eel?” Baron Eldhress of Brightport bellows. “We are warriors, not trawlers!”

  “Order! Order!” The monarch’s fist comes down hard on the table as he shouts to be heard over his subordinates. “Gentlemen, this behavior is unacceptable in our courtroom and is doubly so here. Now if we can continue in a civilized fashion…” The king’s tone is sharper than the one I used earlier. “Commander, you are the sole member of this council to engage these monsters in battle. Does what Archmage Reba suggest have merit?”

  “I have battled these demons twice. When they first attacked, we outnumbered them almost thirty-to-one, but it did us no good. We eventually killed all twenty of the monsters but not before they killed over one hundred of us and wounded four times that many. This means that if our enemy strikes with more than two hundred demons, we cannot win, even with every man we have on the field.” Rising, he continues as he leans on his knuckles. “As for the Kypros treaty: the treaty also states that they will come to our aid if we are under attack. We have sent requests for aid. Has help come? It has been proven the demons use magic in their attacks, so where honor is concerned, none is lost when meeting an enemy on a level field for battle.”

  When Szames pauses for breath, every man is as immobile as the statue gracing the entrance to Castle Eldrich. “There is one last thing I wish each of you to think on. Your sons and your kin will be in the coming battle, fighting for your lives and the lives of everyone in this city. If what Reba suggests will allow our beloveds to retain their lives, is it not worth the damage it will do to our pride?” With a reassuring nod in my direction, he reclaims his seat.

  King Arturo speaks into the silence. “We now know this is the time of the prophecy. With this fact in mind, I would like to hear your recommendations concerning Archmage Reba’s suggestion.” King Arturo calls for their decisions without giving anyone else a chance to speak. “Vinfastur?”

  “I still do not like it, but it seems we have no choice in this matter.” He relinquishes his position with very little grace.

  King Arturo continues around the table. All but Duke Rokroa agree to the measures I suggested. “Taking all of your opinions into consideration, it is our proclamation: The Sorcery Strategies will be implemented. Archmage Reba, are there supplies needed for the magical workings you propose?”

  “Yes, and it is a long list. All weapons must be gathered and brought to the forge where Jerik will work. We will have to assemble portions of the troops in small groups daily: they will need to wear leather armor and all the clothing they will don on the day of the battle. In addition, I must have several wagonloads of sand, four hundred wooden posts at least thirty feet in length, yards of material and people who can sew. Also, Prince Szames aided me in the construction of the protective shield; I could use his help in the modifications.”

  Duke Rokroa scoffs. “We don’t have the manpower to fill your requests, not when all the troops will be training under your men for the battle maneuvers you demand.” He is as pessimistic as Allinon has ever been. “Where do you suggest we get all these supplies, O Great Archmage?”

  Refusing to rise to his bait, I ignore the way he phrased his question and respond to the core concerns. “From the townspeople. Right now they have nothing to do but sit around and worry about the demons. I suggest we send out heralds asking the populace to gather outside the castle to be addressed by their king. Let them know what they can do to help. When faced by unimaginable terrors, I believe the human race will unite to conquer any enemy.”

  “An excellent suggestion, Archmage,” King Arturo replies over the grumbling of the nobles. “We have a few revisions. Instead of our making a request of the townspeople, we will present them to you. You will make the request. And the address will wait until tomorrow. Tonight you and your men will sit at the royal table. We will formally introduce you to the nobility of Cuthburan.”

  “As you wish, Your Majesty. Since I will be making requests in your name as well as offering compensation for services rendered, shall I send you a copy of tomorrow’s address?” My voice is rock solid, though I quake at the thought of public speaking. God, give me strength… And presented at dinner? It all begins tonight.

  “No, that is not necessary.” King Arturo relaxes, now that talk of change has ceased. “You know what is needed. As long as compensations are just, we see no reason to approve each individual action. Archmage, will tomorrow night be soon enough to begin the assemblage of the troops?”

  Preoccupied with thoughts of the address running through my head, I mumble, “Yes, tomorrow will be fine. How many will be in attendance?”

  King Arturo looks to Szames, who says, “No more than thirty the first night.”

  “Have them assembled in the courtyard at sunset tomorrow. And, Your Majesty, I think it will be best if you participate in the ceremony, if you can spare the time.” I can’t have him thinking I’m trying to sway the loyalty of his men.

  “Archmage Reba, if it is your wish,” his tone is one of finality on the subject, “we will see you tomorrow evening.”

  “I appreciate the faith you have placed in me, Your Majesty. With these new developments, I have much to accomplish. I am no tactician; that is Charles’s expertise. With your permission, I’ll leave the paladin, Charles, here in my stead to work on the rest of the strategy for the upcoming battle. I’ll take care of the matters pertaining to magic.” I need to come up with at least ten new enchantments not including battle spells, a speech for people I know nothing about, and a ‘just’ method of compensation!

  “Archmage Reba, your task in this war is possibly the greatest of all those gathered here. It is a wise man—or woman—who knows their own strengths as well as their weaknesses. Your presence will be missed, but we understand your task lies elsewhere. The time of change is upon us. We welcome a fresh point of view for our strategy session. A permanent place will be made for you at this table. You may rejoin us when time allows. Until we dine at evening bells.” With his words, he dismisses me with regret, but I sense relief washing over him.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. Your Highness, when you have time, I could use your aid with the modifications to the shield.” I’ll not be caught short of energy again. I will use all I can from others.

  “Archmage Reba, it will be my pleasure.” The stoic warrior grins. “How much time will be needed to make the adjustments?”

  “Prince Szames, if your disposition for magic remains the same and you have no fear of heights, we will need no more than a mark.” I smile in anticipation.

  A brief twitch of his eyebrow hints that I have captured his attention. “Milady, I will see you at midafternoon bells, if that time is suitable?”

  “Midafternoon bells it is, Your Highness.” My lips tilt in a crooked smile.

  Charles once again takes hold of my chair as I rise. All the men at the table rise with me. Allinon follows me to the door, holding it open as I retire from the War Council.

  Chapter Eleven

  The page stands waiting for me outside the Council Chamber. “William, how long until the afternoon bells?”

  “A little more than a mark, milady.” He dips his head.

  “In that case, please lead the way to the chambers of Princess Szeanne Rose,” I instruct the lad, h
oping showing up early won’t be considered bad manners. Grateful for a few minutes to sort out my thoughts before I have to deal with protocols and insinuations, I follow the youth.

  William stops before a set of doors that look identical to mine. Struggling to pull myself out of the haze of guilt and self-doubt enveloping me, I focus on the chambermaid who answers the set of large doors as the page declares, “The Archmage Reba, to see Princess Szeanne Rose.”

  The servant ushers us into a reception chamber, which differs very little from my own, then disappears into a doorway on the right. The princess joins us a few minutes later. “Archmage Reba, I am pleased you could make it. If you will follow me, lunch will be served momentarily.” She indicates the doorway she and the maid have used.

  I remain silent, unsure how to reply. In a stately procession, I follow her from the reception chamber to commence my first royal luncheon.

  Wow, now this is a bedroom. The princess’s private quarters make mine look stark by comparison. A plush, teal rug covers the floor of the room. Creamy velvet, with a three-inch border of lace, curtains off the balcony, giving the entryway a feminine frill. Elegant chiffon surrounds the mattress in soft waves, enhancing the delicacy of the carved bedposts. The cushions are aqua with a brocade floral print. Ivory silk ruffles the edges. An enormous vanity overpowers a corner of the room, with a wealth of bejeweled holders littering the surface. A three-sided mirror is snuggled between four armoires. So this is what a woman’s room is like. I guess they really were expecting a man.

  “Your Highness, I’m honored by your invitation.” A chambermaid closes the door, leaving William in the other room. “Time didn’t allow us to get acquainted yesterday.”

  “It is I who am honored by your coming.” She motions to the furniture in the center of the room. “The demands on your time are great. I wished, nonetheless, to convey sincere gratitude for your actions.”

  Taking a chair, feeling more and more awkward, I dismiss the tribute. “Your Highness, I played a small part in the healing of your brother. Anyone with the knowledge and the ability would have done the same.”

  “I am afraid I have misconstrued that to which I refer.” Princess Szeanne Rose ignores my denial. “Do not mistake me; I am truly grateful for the aid you gave Prince Alexandros. My brother would have been lost without your intervention. The entire kingdom is in your debt. I, though, am twice indebted. You have aided me in another, more personal situation. You restored my brother to me and you also gave me the desire of my heart, one I had come to believe was unattainable.”

  My brows crinkle in puzzlement. She takes a deep breath as if such openness exhausts her. With a scrutinizing gaze, as if trying to see into my very soul, she continues. “Since I was a girl, I have taken care of every injured creature to cross my path. I persuaded Master Healer Tupper to tutor me in the healing arts, though it was unheard of for a woman to take up the study. I have tended to all of my brothers’ cuts, scrapes, and bruises, all the while dreaming of a time when I could convince my father to let me practice my skills at the Healers Consortium.”

  Hope and excitement tumble inside her, quickly overcome by anger and frustration. Disappointment builds as she speaks. “Last spring the dream I strived toward for years was destroyed. When I mentioned my idea to Father in passing, he was sorely displeased. It seems His Majesty, while negotiating a treaty with Tuvarnava, has arranged for me to marry Prince Varpalava of Tuvarnava. His Majesty feels it would be inappropriate for the future bride to be dealing with peasants.”

  I feel her mood shift, lifting from darkness into wonderment and awe. The light of comprehension dawns. “Yesterday you gave me the opportunity for which I have waited a lifetime, even more than I dreamed possible. All the hours of study I thought had come to naught… you gave them value. I was able to use what lay inside me to save the lives of those who fought so bravely to defend my home. Even though it was for a single day, Milady Archmage Reba, you made it possible for me to live out my dreams.” Princess Szeanne Rose gives a dip of her head. “For that, I am forever in your debt.”

  I feel my cheeks heat as I perceive genuine appreciation. “Your Highness, I don’t know what to say except to remind you of this: I provided the means, but you had the courage to grasp your aspirations in both hands, using the opportunity to accomplish a great good.” Should I take this opportunity? Dare I? What’s the worst that could happen? “The world from which I come differs from yours. I am unaccustomed to your ways, and some of my ways may seem strange or even offensive.”

  I extend myself verbally while I expand my empathy to its limits. “If I could ask but one thing in return, it would be to have your aid on social matters.” Shock, curiosity, slight mistrust. “If you would be kind enough to guide me in the ways of your world, I would be indebted to you.” Disbelief, curiosity. “I know I’m different from the women of Cuthburan; I’m even considered blunt and direct in my world. All I ask is that you let me know what actions of mine are different and might be taken with offense.” Sympathy, comprehension, and admiration.

  “And, Your Highness, please call me Reba, just Reba. I was born without title or rank.” I wait for her reply while servants carrying large trays file in from a door located in the far corner of the room.

  “If we are going to be friends, then you must call me Rose. I will tell you one thing, Reba. None of the women with whom I am acquainted would be so bold as to make the request you have put forth.” Her smile lets me know she is not offended. “I, likewise, would have never disclosed my aspirations to them. Yes, I believe we are predestined to be friends. I am going to enjoy having someone around whom I do not have to try and interpret the meaning behind their words, although it may take some getting used to.”

  We both chuckle as she indicates the table. “I believe our lunch is ready.”

  Rose carries on with her lecture as she serves herself. “In a way, the fact that you are a novelty will be of great benefit. No one will expect you to adhere to our customs. As for your lacking a title, you should know, with your arrival here, you have been bestowed an honorary title, second only to the king.”

  She takes a small portion of all the vegetables on the table and a larger portion of each of the meats. I follow her example. Delighted to see a fork positioned next to the knife by my plate, I dive in.

  “So my behavior will be overlooked, at least at first. That’s a relief.” I savor the delicate spices my sensitive palate reveals. Each bite bursts with exotic flavor. “Tell me: Was your father enraged by my granting you access to your gift?”

  “I do not believe he has discovered it… yet.” She sighs with resignation. “I have never before defied my father’s wishes. I am unsure how he will react.”

  “You can tell him it was my command. My behavior seems to annoy him.” I shrug. “I don’t think one more thing is going to hurt.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I will use it as a last resort. Times are changing. Father must accept the changes in me along with the rest of our world.” Rose’s chin is set. Her eyes blaze as she cuts into the slice of red meat on her plate with a viciousness that projects her mood.

  “What about the treaty and your future husband?” I probe further. “Will your interaction with the commoners create difficulties?”

  The princess chuckles, serving herself a second helping of many of the dishes. “That is the truly ironic element of this entire predicament. I believe Father has merely used the upcoming nuptials as an excuse to deny me what I have studied so long to accomplish. Everything I have read about the Tuvarnavan culture indicates their ladies have much more freedom than we do. I suppose the elevated stature of their women stems from the fact that their deity is a goddess. Many of their higher religious positions are held by women. I do not think anything I have done will offend my future husband or his people in the least.”

  I grin at my new friend. “In that case, after we finish our meal, I’ll be heading over to the infirmary. Jamison could use some help wi
th the rest of the patients. Would you care to join me?”

  A mischievous smile spreads across the face of my luncheon companion. “I would love to.”

  All conversation ceases while we dig into our plates with a renewed sense of purpose. In less than a mark, I am ushered into the reception chamber while Rose changes into something more suitable for work.

  I address the bowing page as I enter the room. “William, I don’t believe I will need your services for the rest of the day. If you will report to my quarters for some final instructions at the mid-evening bells, you may have some time to yourself.”

  “Thank you, milady. I will see you at the mid-evening bells.” His grin makes him look more like the little boy he really is than the professional he has been performing as. He bobs his head with childish enthusiasm before charging out the door.

  I have enough time to begin contemplating the numerous spells I will need in the next few days before Rose appears, wearing a thick cloak with a fur-lined hood. We start out the door and down the hall without any further discussion.

  “I have to admit, I’m fascinated by arranged marriages. Parents no longer take such measures with children in my homeland. If it isn’t inappropriate for me to ask, what does Prince Varpalava look like? Or do you even know?”

  “No, it is not inappropriate, although not many of my friends have been brave enough to question me so.” Rose smiles warmly. “I have seen a portrait of him. He is average looking with brown hair and eyes. Not ugly, but I would not call him handsome either. He is eight years older than I. Szames says he stands a few inches taller than me. I suspect this is part of the reason he is interested in taking me as a bride. Though men usually mimic their fathers in matters of height, with a single enchantment, his sons will inherit their stature from the Cuthburan line. They will be much taller than his subjects, not to mention improving the countenance of the Tuvarnavan royals.” She is very matter-of-fact, without even a trace of vanity.