Prophecy of the Flame - Copyright 2011 by Lynn Hardy
Chapter Nine
“Kyle, I had the strangest dream. It was so real,” I mumble, searching for the warm body located not too far from me. Cold emptiness greets my hand. My eyes pop open. I bolt upward, sitting straight up on the bed. Gazing around the large room at all the muted colors, I rub my eyes. am I still dreaming?
I shake off the haze of sleep when I hear a noise from my right. The bathroom was over that way. A door opens in the corner, well past the location of the lavatory. The room shines, coming alive with a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues. A blonde enters carrying a candle on a metal holder surrounded by three panes of glass and a shiny, metal back.
“Milady, is there something I may bring you?” inquires the woman wearing a dark blue, floor-length skirt and a gray blouse.
“Ah, Crystal.” So it wasn’t a dream after all. “Some water would be welcome. Do you know how long until sunrise?”
“It is still almost two marks before morning bells, milady.” Crystal strides over to a dresser sitting next to the armoire in the corner.
Well, I feel rested, even if it is an ungodly hour. Matter of fact, I never feel this energetic in the morning. Throwing back the thick pile of covers burying me to my chin, I move to the side of the bed. Crystal approaches with a glass in one hand and a candle in the other.
“Milady, would you like to start with the correspondence that came in last night?” she queries, handing me the requested water.
“Correspondence? I’ve been here, what, a day?” Baffled, I shake my head. “Yes, I suppose I should start with those.”
Stepping into my slippers and grabbing the robe, I hurry to follow the chambermaid as she marches out of the bedroom. The maid’s head pops up. She is surrounded in an echo of surprise. She pauses in the process of gathering items on a metal tray.
“Thank you, Crystal, but I will take care of those at the desk.” She hesitates in the doorway for a fraction of a second. I perceive confusion. Wondering if my lack of etiquette is already causing problems, I dismiss the foreign emotions from my thoughts. I’ll have to learn more about the rules here before I wind up doing something that is totally taboo in this culture.
I move to the chair behind the desk. The ebonized wood is solid. The pillowed seat makes it almost comfortable. Crystal places the two folded manuscripts before me then exits the room. Looking at the immense expanse of the desk, I have no clue where to begin.
Picking up the missive on top, I inspect the letter. There is something scrawled on the front. It is heavier than expected. On the back, blue wax has been placed where the folded edges meet. The seal has a castle stamped into it. I’m going to need some additional skills. Well, I feel much better. Rejuvenated, as a matter of fact. It’s time to get with the program.
“The Cuthburish language I now know,
Reading and writing are needed so
Magic will copy from this written note
The necessary skills from he who wrote.”
I concentrate on the effect I want to accomplish. After a thrilling wave caresses me, I open my eyes to see a blue light move from the letter to my arms. No pain. . . ooh, I love being a mage. With a thought, I can now recall how to affix a seal to any style of correspondence I wish. It also occurs to me that this seal, the one with the castle, belongs to the reigning king of Cuthburan. A letter from the king?
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Prophecy of the Flame - Book One
FantasyIn a blinding flash of light, five strangers are yanked from this world and thrust into a land of sorcery as they are granted the looks and abilities of the people they were playing. This band of wannabe heroes soon discovers that having the powers...
