Prophecy of the Flame - Book One

Chapter Two

  Prophecy of the Flame - Copyright 2011 by Lynn Hardy

Chapter Two

“They look impressive, Merithin, but still, they are merely five men.” Looking in our direction, He-man adds, “How long ago did you summon them?”

“Not even a candle-mark has passed, milord.” The robed elder studies our group as he muses, “I thought the transfer would have been much harder on them.”

Thank God the pain ebbed with the release of the slow-time spell. At least I can see where I’m going. I bow low before the prince along with the rest of our group.

Allinon’s pious voice rings out, “Your Highness, may I approach?”

“You have leave to continue.” The hulking blond gives a slight dip of his chin.

“I am Allinon, the druid elf. This is Charles the paladin, Jamison the master healer, Jerik the dwarf master smith, and the Archmage Reba.” We each sketch an elegant bow as he calls our names.

“Having summoned us from a vast distance, I know your need is great.” Allinon uses the information I gave him as if it were his own personal accomplishment. “We sense a growing force of malevolence outside the walls of this place and goodness within. For this reason, we freely pledge our services to aid your kingdom.” He brings his hand to his side. As one, our right knees hit the chamber’s stone floor.

”I am not king nor crown prince that I may accept this as a formal pledge to the kingdom of Cuthburan.” My new empathy is blank; I am unable to read any emotion from the prince. His stoic face also refuses to divulge what lies beneath the spoken words. “I will, however, accept your offer as a request to join the forces, which I, Prince Szames of Cuthburan, command. Before we proceed, may I see all the faces of those who are pledging themselves?” Turning to me, he explains as if teaching a young student, “For this oath to be binding, I must know from whom it comes.”

I set my staff on the ground beside me. I reach with both hands to remove the forgotten hood; the silver material is translucent to my vision. Slanting through the narrow window, the warmth of the sun strikes the top of my head, providing a halo as I rise. I couldn’t have choreographed that better if I were making a movie!

“The Prophecy. . .” mumbles the guard, turning a ghostly shade.

“The One. . .” gasps someone farther up the stairs.

The mutterings seem a bit over the top, but the shock is justified, what with my being a woman and all. However, the fleeting look of hope stealing across the face of the prince makes me frown in puzzlement.

Allinon clears his throat, taking a step forward to draw the attention back to himself. “Prince Szames, may I inquire, Your Highness, how stands the condition of your army?”

Prince Szames looks back to Allinon. “The king’s army stood five thousand strong until last night. We lost three hundred men and another two hundred were wounded in the solitary battle so far.”

Dismissing our leader, the prince turns to me, giving more than the requested intel. “My brother, the Crown Prince Alexandros, took a mortal wound in the skirmish.”

Jamison steps up beside Allinon, his concern for the injured overwhelms his sense of protocol. “You have wounded? How many healers are in your army? I am a master of healing with a large resource of magic available.”

Prince Szames turns to Jamison. “You are a Sorcerer-Healer?” Words tumble out in his excitement. “If you are a physician who wields magic, then you have come at Cuthburan’s desperate hour. All efforts to cure Prince Alexandros of the jarovegi wound have been ineffectual.” He nods in my direction. “Perhaps it is magic that is needed. Come with me.”