Prophecy of the Flame - Book One

Chapter Seven and Eight

Prophecy of the Flame - Copyright 2011 by Lynn Hardy

Chapter Seven

“Nekte Laure, lisse’ lle amael yulna,”

The nasally song eases into the darkness around me. Where have I heard that song before?

“Naikelea dol, kaivokalma ona ripa,”

I fight to open my eyes.

“Quel maranwe ten’ naikelea dol.”

My eyes flutter open. Allinon leans over me. “The filk worked. She’s awake.”

I wipe gritty eyes, pushing him back, so I can sit up. “Wha. . . what happened?” The meeting room in the barracks comes into focus.

A worried looking Szames hands me a cup of silvery liquid. “One minute the wound on Charles’s shoulder stopped bleeding, the next you were collapsing.”

Note to self – don’t cast spells when using magic feels like flossing with shoestrings laced with acid! The tepid liquid tastes like water as I chug the contents of the glass.

“Charles, we’ve been here—what?—less than a day and already you’re dancing in the limelight?” Jamison jokes, easing the shirt aside. His face betrays nothing as he examines the wound.

“Thanks,” I give Allinon a brief smile, swinging my legs over the edge of the table so that I can stumble over to where Charles is seated a few feet away.

 “Yeah. Glory, that’s what I’m after. How can I be Prince Charmin’ if the babes don’t swoon at my feet when tales of my valor are told?” Charles makes a valiant attempt at banter. “Reba stopped the bleeding, but it hurts like a mother. Give it to me straight, snowflake. How bad is it?”

“Oh, not too bad. Whatever hit you, it could have done a lot worse. It’s a good thing Reba didn’t attempt to do more. With her level of skill, this would be tricky work. No offense, Reba.”

“None taken.” We exchange smiles. Szames brings a chair over. Gratefully I sink onto the hard wood.

The master healer focuses on the job at hand. “Those lacerations on your chest look messy, but I will be able to heal them right now. Your shoulder on the other hand, well, it’s going to take some time. The scapula, or shoulder blade, has a hairline fracture on the top edge. Even with the healing, it will be a couple of days before you have full use of your sword arm again.”

Relief washes through me. “Two days we have.” I pull up a chair across from the patient, determined to add to my knowledge of the healing arts.

“You completed the spell? Thank God. Within a week, all of the men who are going to achieve a full recovery should be there. Unfortunately, there’ll still be almost a score of them that will never be whole.” Charles moans. Jamison turns back to him. “Let’s get you taken care of; then I’ll brief you on the rest.”

“In a case like this, you need to heal the internal injuries first and make sure those are stable,” Jamison narrates for my benefit. “Reba, you will be able to see those injuries if you can achieve a full healer’s sight, not merely magesight. Bones need to be healed and back in their proper position before you move on to any other tissue damage. The outer muscle tissue will act as a support for the restored skeletal structure.”

Jamison holds his hands inches from the paladin, hovering over Charles’s upper back. An emerald light, visible to magesight, emanates from the outstretched fingers. The glow penetrates the mangled flesh until it narrows to a thin beam of green. “Charles, it looks like some of your paladin skills are still intact. Knitting a bone usually requires a bit of energy, even for someone of my skills, but healing you took very little. Your blessing for quick recovery is still active. Now for those cuts.”