Prophet of Gethindol
an excerpt

The gentle lapping of waves on the shore mixed with the cry of gulls overhead; the murmur of fisher folk on the dock was a pleasant mingling of laughter and banter. A salty wind blew through the sandstone room and refreshed the chamber with a healthy breath of the sea. The figure in the bed sighed a deep, invigorating sigh and stirred gently. The sheets were cool and smooth and light as a feather and curled around her form comfortingly. A clean white bandage covered one eye in contrast to the rosy tinted cheek exposed.
Penelope’s long hair lay spread on the pillow around her combed glossy and bright as a new minted mite. She wore a simple nightgown of wrinkled cotton that was drawn around the neck with a silk cord. The long sleeves reached the back of her hands and a row of tiny shells adorned the edges. Resisting the inevitable power of waking Penelope rolled to her side, her hand coming up to rest under her cheeks as usual. It met the bandage around her head. Her hand paused over the bandage, feeling the crossing of the materiel.
She blinked but could feel nothing under the dressing. Feeling slightly frightened, Penelope slowly sat up and looked around the room. It was a large room that opened through a network of wide open doorways into several other similar rooms. She could see a sitting room or sorts and bathing room with a large wicker screen draped with warm beige towels. Low set windows looked out to a sea of green sparkling water that rushed and sighed against the shore.
Pushing off the covers, Penelope slid to the floor, the marble cold beneath her bare feet. Pulling a shawl from its place draped over a wicker chair, she wrapped herself in it as she walked to the window. A rush of sweet sea air played around her as she leaned out. It rippled though her hair and plucked playfully at her clothes like little fingers. Leaning against the sill for support, Penelope closed her eyes and breathed in a deep lungful of the soft breeze.
The sound of a pipe player suddenly whistled through the garden below the window and Penelope saw a small lad in scarlet tunic and stockings playing his instrument, his legs crossed in the center of a bed of red roses. His mournful, sweet tune floated up to Penelope and she felt tears spill over at the sound. It sounded like the tune of a lonely wanderer far from home. She wiped away the salt tears from her exposed eye and felt a faint burning on the other. Holding her hand against the dressing, Penelope moved back from the window.
“I see you are awake,” a voice said.
Penelope turned and saw a tall, thin man watching her from the doorway. One thin bony hand was on the doorknob and the other held a tray of food balanced carefully in the other. His face was craggy and narrow but smooth and unblemished framed by shoulder length hair the color of coal. His expression was calm and serene but there was a stubbornness about the mouth and jaw that bespoke sternness.
“How did I come here?” Penelope asked her voice groggy and unused.
“Your friends brought you here after you were attacked by the dragon,” he answered moving into the room and setting the tray on a small round table I the middle of the room, “You were badly injured and needed care beyond their abilities. How is your eye?”
“I don’t know. It burns a little,” she said her hand creeping up to touch the bandage.
He came up to her and reached out to touch her chin and tip it toward himself. Penelope looked at him a moment and allowed him examine her. His fingers were cold and so gentle she barely felt them. He frowned slightly, “You have been crying. Are you in any pain?”
“None. What happened to my friends? Are they nearby?”
“The boy and the elf are in the courtyard training,” the man replied in an off hand tone as he began unwinding the dressing, “I must change this before you do more harm then has already been done.”
“And Jass? Is he alright?” Penelope winced as he removed the last layer of the dressing. A bit of it stuck and he had to dampen it with water before it would come lose.
He frowned again, “Sit down in the light please,” he moved a chair forward her and pulled one up for himself, “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well. But how long have I been asleep? I feel as if I haven’t been awake in days.”
“You would be correct,” he answered with a small smile, “You have not been awake in over nine days. You had a raging fever when they brought you in and that only broke four days ago. It was deemed unsafe for you to wake before your eyes had time to heal further and so you were given a sleeping draught to help you heal restfully.”
“A sleeping draught?” Penelope said in surprise, “Extreme measures—are my eyes very badly off?”
“You must be the one to tell me,” he said sitting back the lengths of bandage in his hand, “How much can you see through it?”
“I don’t know,” Penelope squinted slightly blinking in the sudden light. She felt her eyes watering again in the glare and turned away, “I can’t see anything the light is too strong.”
“There,” he went and lowered a shade over the window, “Now?”
“I see—” she covered her good eye with one hand and waited. She could see nothing through the other, “I see nothing.”
“Nothing? No shadow outlines or shifting light? Nothing at all?” he questioned coming back to sit in front of her.
Penelope felt a little panic rise in her chest, “nothing.”
“It is just as I thought,” he replied calmly, “are you hungry?”
“What?” she asked in surprise.
“I asked if you were hungry,” he repeated, “You haven’t had anything but soups and broth these last few days and no doubt you are in need of more hearty fare.”
“I cannot see out of my right eye and all you think I need is food?” Penelope asked, “Who are you?”
“Your physician,” he answered. He moved the food off the tray the smell of fragrant oatmeal wafting over the Penelope. Her stomach growled loudly and she wrapped her arms more tightly around her waist, “You will feel much improved after you have eaten a good meal. Then I will come back and redress your wound and we will talk more. I will send a maid along to help you bath and dress as well. No doubt you will feel more relaxed afterward.”
Sitting before the meal, Penelope stared at him, “Could you tell my companions I am awake? I would like to see them.”
“Very well, but I would strongly encourage you not to see anyone until after we have spoken. It would be—wise to be prepared for any questions they might have.”
“You make me feel quite afraid for them,” Penelope answered faintly, “Am I so hideous?”
“No. But you must understand the changes that all of you will be faced with in the future. Eat, and rest. I will come back in an hour or two.”
“Thank you,” she called after him but he was gone.