Chapter 7

“You shall protect all trees, including the Tree of Life, while I am away.”

The words of the Guardian, penned by Polan the scribe, year 3000

Justice

Oliver felt like he was in the middle of a movie as he walked through the ancient version of Magen City. Farms, cattle, horses, and small wooden houses littered the space outside the city’s walls. No running water. No electricity.

Silas seemed troubled by Oliver’s claim to be from the future. “Let us meet with the Justices,” he’d said. “And there we can determine if what you say is true.” He silently led Oliver toward the center of the city.

People stared at Oliver as he walked by, finding his clothing peculiar. He still wore the same suit he wore to meet Kimberly, his black shoes now caked in mud, his coat over his shoulder, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He stared back at the people, feeling numb to the world, still trying to wrap his mind around the reality of time travel, magic, mages, and… everything else.

They eventually reached one of the city gates. It was open, but several mages stood guard, long staves in hand as their only weapons. If those staves could shoot fire as Silas’ stick had, then they were plenty dangerous. They greeted Silas with the same enthusiasm as Captain Fields, but briefer; Silas was in an obvious rush to get to the Justices.

So many new sights caught Oliver’s attention; he felt like a kid in the mall for the first time. So much to take in all at once.

Hundreds of people filled the streets. The rising sun heated up the valley, much warmer than the cold winter Oliver came from. The smell of sweat, livestock, and fresh onions mixed in the air. The clanking of blacksmiths’ hammers and the grinding of carpenters’ saws echoed off nearby buildings. Salesmen and women shouted what products they were vending and their respective costs.

The buildings within the walls were much larger than the huts without, about twice the size, mostly made of stone and brick with wooden roofs. Wooden roofs? Oliver thought. Can they really withstand the elements? Verence claimed that they could, but Oliver had yet to see that with his own eyes.

Horses and oxen pulled wagons through the wide, cobblestone streets. A large number of pedestrians and wagons congested several parts of the road, bringing Silas and Oliver to a complete stop a couple of times. Oliver kept his eyes on the back of Silas’ tall frame and green robes, determined to not get lost in the bustle of the mostly unfamiliar city.

There were a few things he recognized. The man-sized statue of the Guardian of Magic—one of the dozens in the city—looked much cleaner and had more facial parts still attached to it than the future version Oliver used to see as he drove to work.

He recognized the Cathedral of the Ascended Guardian, which towered over most surrounding buildings and looked surprisingly just as old and haunting as it did in the future, with its dark gray, stone walls and dome-shaped roof giving it a cold appearance.

The Justice Hall here was a dazzling spectacle. In Oliver’s time, there was an Old Justice Hall far from downtown with the same design as its modern rendition, but not nearly as large. In 4027, it was used as a tourist attraction. But here, in the year 2000, the old Justice Hall was the only Justice Hall, and it was in exceptional condition. Probably recently constructed. The new one wouldn't be constructed for more than a thousand years from now—a thousand years before he would be born.

He cringed at the thought.

Time travel. Another impossible thing he had to accept as real. So far this had been the hardest one to swallow. I’m in the past, he thought. Does that mean if I do something wrong in the past, it will mess up the future? Could something I do here lead to me never being born? Or is the future set and nothing I do can change it? How do I get back? And if I do get back, will it be at the moment right after I left? Or will I get back to a completely different time, or a different reality where everything is backward?

He rubbed his head and groaned, mentally and emotionally exhausted. He wished this was a dream, but as more time went on, the more certain he was that it was not.

This was all real.

They walked up the stone steps that led to the Justice Hall. Although it bore the same design as its future version, it had one major difference. It was made of wood. Walls and roof. Doors and sidings and floor. All wooden.

How ironic.

There were more green-robed guards at the doors, but they let Silas pass by, saluting him with a fist over the heart. He led Oliver through a few doors and hallways until they entered the main courtroom. Wooden pews lined half the room, which were unoccupied, save for a few spectators.

At the back of the room stood a semicircular table where seven elegantly-dressed people sat as they listened to a woman in the center of the room. Everyone turned to regard the two men enter unannounced. Oliver noticed that the woman standing in the middle of the courtroom had tears in her eyes and two small, skinny children at her sides.

“General Jarrah?” a snow-haired man at the center of the table asked.

Silas strode toward the center of the room and stood next to the woman. “Head Justice Resin, I request immediate council from all seven of you. This is extremely important.”

“You’ve been gone for two weeks, Silas!” another Justice said, sounding relieved.

“So I’ve heard.”

Justice Resin looked at Oliver and slowly rose to his feet, the color draining from his face. “Is that… him?”

“I….” Silas glanced at Oliver and then faced the Justices. “I’m not sure. That’s why I seek your counsel.”

“Very well.” Justice Resin turned to the sobbing woman. “Myra, we apologize, but this matter takes precedence. We mourn for the loss of your city and we plan to avenge your husband. In fact, the news General Jarrah brings may be exactly what we need to win this war. Please, give us the room. All of you.”

After the woman, her two children, and a few audience members left the courtroom, Silas blurted, “I’ve heard Pinedale has fallen. Is it true?”

Justice Resin nodded grimly. “It is true. Lennox has taken our border city. That mother and her children are refugees from Pinedale.”

“Smoke and ashes!” Silas pounded a fist on one of the tables and then began pacing the floor. “I was gone far too long!”

Oliver jumped at Silas’ outburst. He had initially thought Silas was all serious and mostly emotionless, but here he realized Silas was passionate—quite passionate—about his responsibilities as a general and the safety of his countrymen.

“Has Lennox marched on Cambium yet?” Silas asked. “That’s where he’ll go next.”

“No,” Resin said. “Our scouts haven’t picked up on anything yet. He’s biding his time, preparing his assault.”

Oliver knew of Cambium from his own time. It was a small town a few hours away by car from Salveria.

Silas continued pacing. “How could this happen? I was only there for one day. And two weeks passed here. If I were here instead of there—”

“—the outcome may have been the same.” Justice Resin finished for him. “Pinedale may have been unsalvageable. It’s not your fault, Silas. The Instructions were clear that you were to go to the Ascensions. You did the right thing. No one could foresee what would happen.”

“But I fear I made a mistake.” Silas gestured to Oliver. “This man says he is not the Guardian of Magic.”

Oliver nodded in agreement. “He’s right, your honor, I’m not.”

Justice Resin walked around the bench to get a closer look at Oliver, observing his unique clothing. Resin was tall and slim, with a full, white beard and an upturned nose. He had the air of authority, just like the Justices in 4027, but he had a little more warmth in his eyes than they did. “Not the Guardian, eh?” He turned to Silas. “Did you follow the instructions?”

“Yes,” Silas said.

“Did he say the key phrase?”

“Yes.”

“Then it can’t be a mistake,” said one of the Justices, a woman with gray, curly hair. “He must be the Guardian.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “No, there is definitely a mistake. Just because I said something similar to what was scribbled on his little paper, doesn’t mean I’m the Guardian.”

“It’s not just scribbled on that paper,” she said. “It’s in the Holy Instructions, written by the Guardian’s hand a thousand years ago.”

“And you didn’t say something similar to the key phrase,” Silas added. “You said it verbatim, word for word.”

“Okay, so the key phrase is a phenomenon,” Oliver admitted. “But if I’m the Guardian, then how could I have written that a thousand years ago without knowing I had?”

The Justices looked stumped, unable to respond.

Time travel… Oliver thought, his mind racing. A possible answer? But what about…

“And how can I be the Guardian,” Oliver said, “when I don’t even believe he’s real?”

Half of the Justices gasped. The other half scowled. “You’re a heretic?” a female Justice asked.

“I prefer the term Secular.”

“What’s your name, lad?” Head Justice Resin asked.

“Oliver Kapur, your honor.”

“‘Your honor,’ eh? Sounds like you have experience in politics.”

Oliver sniffed. “You could say that.”

“Hm.” Resin scratched his beard. “Tell me, how’s your magery?”

“My… what?”

The Justices looked worriedly at each other. “He didn’t even believe in magic until I cast some in front of his eyes,” Silas said. “When I did, he looked as frightened as a child who’d seen a ghost for the first time.”

I hope ghosts aren’t real too, Oliver thought. My sanity can’t withstand another surprise.

“I believe people in his world don’t even cut trees,” Silas said. “They think it’s some sort of crime.”

Oliver raised a finger. “Yes, but I was about to change that law. And I’d like to return so I can assure it does get changed.”

“You can change laws?” Resin asked. “You’re not the Guardian, and yet you have sway in the legislature? Are you a Justice, then?”

“Mages, no. I am a Branch Leader.” Seeing their confused looks, Oliver expounded. “A Branch is a faction, and I represent the Branch of people who don’t believe in the Guardian of Magic.”

“I see…” Resin scratched his long beard.

The room fell quiet.

“Well,” Resin said. “He certainly doesn’t seem like what we’d expect the Guardian to be. General, if you will, please tell us everything you did, from the moment you left until now.”

Silas told the story in his deep voice with occasional hand gestures. He’d used the white wand—which he called the Guardian’s Wand—to create a portal to go to the Ascensions. He’d traveled to a world of winter that had buildings the size of mountains. What he called the Grove of Life was filled with thousands of souls walking on the stone ground, each with their curious, flying companions—he was referring to the drones.

He’d hid near the Tree of Life for hours, watching hundreds of tourists go by, waiting until a man stood alone before the Tree, as instructed. He’d found shelter through the night, and when he’d returned the next morning, he’d seen a man and a woman at the Tree. Once the woman had left, he’d approached the man, who was Oliver.

He continued the story, explaining everything from then until they entered the Justice Hall.

The Justices listened carefully to Silas’ words, though most didn’t look at him. They stared at the ceiling, ground, or at a table, deep in thought. It was as if they were going through a mental checklist, making sure he did all of the things he was supposed to. However, when Silas explained that Oliver claimed to have time traveled, all of the Justices stared up at Oliver, bewildered.

“You’re not from the Ascensions?” Resin asked.

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t think such a place exists.” That statement sent a visible chill into each of them. “I’m from the future. I won’t be born until two thousand years from now. Silas took me from the year 4027 to this year.”

The Justices all looked at each other with surprise and confusion. “How is that possible?” Resin asked.

“Um… magic?” Oliver guessed.

“I’ve never heard of such magic.”

“Oh, flames.”

“Disconcerting,” said one of the younger-looking Justices with a high-pitched voice—and young in this group meant he was probably in his fifties. “How could someone live in a time before they are born? Sounds an awful lot like reincarnation blasphemy to me.”

“It’s not reincarnation.” Everyone turned toward Silas as he pulled the white stick out of his robes and placed it on a table. “I was there. And it wasn’t the Ascensions. Somehow, the Guardian’s Wand sent me through time, like Oliver said. I must have made a mistake in the Carving. It took me to the wrong place… and I couldn’t go back.”

Justice Resin nodded, picking up the white stick and staring at it. “It must have been a mistake then.”

Silence fell in the Justice Hall. A pained, anguished silence.

“Please.” They all looked at Oliver, whose voice sounded suppliant. “Is there any way you can take me back?”

“Perhaps,” Silas said. “I could try again. I may have missed something in the Carving and did it wrong.”

“General,” Resin said. “When you failed to Cast the Guardian’s Wand, were you near the Tree of Life?”

Silas rocked his head back, following the Head Justice’s train of thought. “No. Maybe it works only if I am near her.”

“Right. We’ve only Casted the wand’s magic once, and we still don’t fully comprehend how to use it. Best head back to the Grove of Life immediately, General. The sooner we can get the Guardian here, the better. And you can return this young man back to his home.”

Oliver’s heart lifted, glad this conversation was going in the right direction.

“Hand me the Wand,” Silas said to Justice Resin. “I’ll take—”

“Hold it!”

Oliver spun on his heels to follow the voice. He saw a man, dressed in an extremely ornate, green and white robe, standing at the courtroom’s entrance. He was old, older than most of the Justices—which made him ancient—with a completely bald head and wrinkled, tumor-ridden skin. He hunched over as he walked toward them, as if he’d spent decades combatting against gravity and was beginning to lose, but he gripped a wooden staff to keep himself upright. His gait, however, seemed too strong and swift for his age.

“Don’t send him back!” he said tersely.

“Grand Arboler Parley,” Silas said, falling to one knee. The Justices followed Silas’ lead, looking sheepish.

Only Oliver remained standing. The Grand Arboler? he thought. The head of the one of the Arboler sects? Why are they bowing to him? He leads a sect. Not the country… right?

“How can you lot be so hasty to give up?” Parley asked, his voice a breathy tenor.

“Your honor,” Silas said, standing back up. “We believe we made a mistake. You see, this man is from the—”

“Future?” Parley finished for him. “Yes, yes, you oaf. I heard everything. And why not? The future is quite the Ascension, no?”

“What are you saying, your honor?” Justice Resin asked.

Parley pointed his staff at Oliver and looked at the Justices. “You bats are too blind to see it? Why, he’s the Guardian of Magic, come to save us from nasty ol’ Lennox Elmson. And you want to send him back?” He uttered some curses under his breath as he shook his head, rubbing his bald scalp.

“But, you honor,” Silas said. “He can’t be the Guardian. He’s not from the Ascensions. He—”

“Save your breath, General, and open your rotten ears. Are you a blind bat and a deaf snake? I said I heard everything.” Parley seemed to have the uncanny ability to insult people in an endearing way. He turned to the Justices. “You are all riled up with the Ascensions and his beliefs and what not. You forget what is important. He said the key phrase, right?”

The Justices nodded.

“Then he’s the Guardian, Advent of the Ages, Guardian of Truth.” He looked up at Oliver as he said this last part, smiling.

Oliver grew stiff and defensive. If this old guy convinces the others that I’m the Guardian, they may never help me go back, he thought. “Look,” he said. “What I said doesn’t matter. Anyone else could have said the same thing. Silas just happened to find me, and I was his unlucky first pick who got it right.”

“But did you mean it, Oliver Kapur?” the Grand Arboler asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Mean what?”

“The rotten key phrase? When you said, ‘I intend to save the world from destroying itself,’ did you mean it?”

He almost said no, but then paused, thinking back on that moment. “Yes… but I was talking about something completely different.”

Parley smiled. “Saving the world is saving the world, lad.”

“But I’m a Branch Leader. Not a magical warrior or some religious figurehead.”

The Grand Arboler took a labored step—leaning on his staff—toward Oliver and glared up at him, a strange intensity in the old man’s eyes. “I believe you just don’t know who you really are yet.”

Oliver was about to argue but caught his breath and gaped down at the man, recalling the same words from Kim.

“But, your honor,” Silas said. “He doesn’t know magery. He doesn’t even believe in the Guardian. How can he possibly save us from Lennox?”

“That will come with time,” Parley said. “Oliver will have to learn and prepare… under your tutelage, General.”

“Mine?” Silas gaped. “You want me to train the Guardian of Magic in magery? That sounds… backwards!”

“He had to learn it all somewhere, didn’t he?”

Justice Resin cleared his throat. “Your honor, what shall we tell the people? I’m certain many saw Silas return to the city with Oliver. They will want to know if the Guardian has truly come or not.”

“Tell them the truth. He’s here.”

The Justices glanced worriedly at each other. “But, the people may not be as believing,” Resin said. “They will want to see him do… astounding things, your honor.”

“And they will.” Parley looked back at Oliver. “Eventually, they will.”

Oliver stared back at him, unsure what to say. He’d debated with many older men and women much wiser than him, but this old man seemed as spunky as a wolverine and as immovable as a boulder in a ditch. I don’t know who I really am yet? Oliver thought. What’s that supposed to mean?

Parley looked at everyone in the room and said, “Well, that’s all. Good luck, you maggots.” He turned to leave.

“Grand Arboler, are you saying that Oliver will become the Guardian of Magic, given time?” Resin asked. “How can that be? We were expecting him to come to us prepared and ready to save us.”

Parley chuckled as he limped down the middle aisle between the pews. “You all have seemed to miss a very important detail in the Instructions.” He reached the courtroom door and turned to look at them. “Why do you think there was a key phrase in the first place?”

No one answered.

He laughed again and closed the door behind him.