Prophecy of the Flame - Book One

Chapter Thirty

Prophecy of the Flame - Copyright 2011 by Lynn Hardy

Chapter Thirty

True consciousness evades me. I catch sporadic sensations of joy and relief as a swaying tells me that I am carried through the city, but I am unable to break through the corridor of darkness surrounding my mind. The siege of Castle Eldrich, the Jewel of Cuthburan, is broken.

“I saw Szames fall. Is it a mortal wound?” Arturo’s words are winded, as if he has run a great distance. Seared with emotion, they echo into the dark that binds me.

I struggle to open my eyes.

 “He received no wound, Father. He fell while joined with Reba to destroy the last of the lizard kings.” Alex answers.

“Has the mage’s life been forfeited along with my youngest son?” The worry in the monarch’s tone causes me to redouble my effort to be free of the darkness tying my limbs. A hand touches my forehead as the stretcher jostles to a halt. I feel a mind brush against my own.

“Her soul remains within her body. Reba didn’t deplete her reservoir completely.” Jamison voice penetrates the darkness.

“She can take us home,” Allinon’s whispered sigh barely reaches my ears.

A swinging sensation lulls me again as the men carrying the litter set off once more. Consciousness slips from me. My mind stirs as I am placed upon a cushioned surface.

“The enemy is routed, but the gate has yet to be located.” Arturo’s fears have not been assuaged. “Will she recover in time for the Demon Campaign?”

“Your Majesty, in a day, two at most, I believe Reba will make a full recovery,” Jamison pronounces over my still form. “Offer her water when she wakes, and food should be brought within the hour.”

“Yes, milord,” Crystal murmurs.

With the kingdom’s fate more certain, Arturo asks the question stabbing through his heart, “And my son? Will Szames wake as well?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Relief washes through the king. I sense the monarch leave my immediate vicinity as he strides into the next room. Jamison and Allinon also leave my bedside. The rustle of clothing and clinking of armor dies down as those privileged enough to be allowed entrance wait expectantly.

I struggle to hear what news Arturo gives of the battle. “Today’s victory is the beginning. As the prophecy stated: delivered by magic, unto magic. Archmage Reba will lead the campaign two days hence. The Flame shall overcome the darkness!”

The shouted words reach my enhanced ears as if whispered from a great distance. I begin to relax as I feel the emotional storm of worry depart for a new location. I know Arturo has left for his son’s bedside, yet true rest is elusive. Though my body is unable to rouse, my mind worries over what is to come.

The demons’ strength is so much greater than we expected. Their tactics, so cunning. We’ve won the battle, but will we win the war? I dismiss the topic, determined not to borrow trouble. Still, I am unable to find the peacefulness of true sleep.

Like a hound after a scent, I search for the root of the problem. Home? If I manage to save the glorious kingdom of Cuthburan, nay, the entire world, will I be able to return to my old life, a mere housewife?

If I had an ounce of strength, my teeth would be grinding. I’m going hometo Kyle! I’m not staying on this world where fidelity is considered folly.

The thought crystallizes in my consciousness. An icy chill spreads down my back. A flash of white light startles me in the night that surrounds my senses. My body has been taxed beyond human endurance, but my muscles still tense with expectation. One strand of magic remains strong: precognition.

My destabilized mind is too weak for the powerful vision. Instead of witnessing the event, I am drawn into it, experiencing it with the fullness of my senses.

~   ~   ~

I am sitting at a small table across from Alex. The interior of the massive pavilion is aglow with the dim morning light. Everything is slightly out of focus, fuzzy. In a flash of insight, I realize I am intoxicated.

I miss the exchange of words. My weakened senses reel as I bound to my feet after downing the contents of the cup before me.

“Yes, I’ll survive, even if I am alone,” the mumbled words mean little to my distorted mind. I take a step toward the door but stumble in my inebriated state. Alex’s strong hands steady me. Surrounded by his arms, my tongue runs free. “And who will be there to hold me then?”

All the anger, frustration, and fears tumble out of me. “What am I doing? I’m not who everyone thinks I am. I have no training, no upbringing for this.” Tears come unbidden, streaming uncontrollably down my face. “Being an archmage is going to be so very lonely.”

I fight to hold onto consciousness, needing to know the dangers ahead.

“Shush, it is okay.” Gently Alex strokes my hair, comforting me as he would a small child. “It will be okay.”

“Yeah, here is the all-powerful savior of”—I hiccup—“your kingdom, weeping like a child.” Gradually I regain control of my composure. The emotional outburst has exhausted me. I struggle to remain standing.

The last dregs of my strength ebb from me. Darkness crowds the premonition. I peer through the shadowy fog. I feel the warmth of the prince’s skin through my silky tunic as he eases closer to my body.

In a smooth motion, Alex sweeps me off my feet. Carrying me as easily as a child, his long strides bring us quickly to the bed.

A knowing solidifies deep inside me. When I wake, the true battle will begin: the Demon Crusade and the battle to retain my moral integrity in this seductive world of moral decadence. Unconsciousness steals the premonition from my grasp. I am released from the horrific vision as my exhausted mind slips into the oblivion of a coma.

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The saga of Reba, Szames, and Alex continues in

Prophecy of the Flame

Book Two - Love's Price

Now Available on Amazon Kindle