Chapter 16

“With the extensive slaughter we have performed on these monstrous beasts, let us refrain from overindulging in killing game and eating meat, for the grains, fruits, and vegetables provided by Life will give you vibrant energy and longer lives.”

The Guardian’s Instructions, penned by Rigel Knotsworth, year 1002

Foreknowledge

Five days after his arrival to the year 2000, Oliver had never felt so sore in his life. In his youth, he’d experienced rigorous exercise in school sports, but never to this level of intensity. He had blisters in more places on his body than he cared to name.

Fortunately, calluses were beginning to form.

While Ashley’s training was his least favorite, he’d begun to notice his body responding better to it. She taught him how to fight hand to hand, with a wand, sword, and staff without magic. When they dueled, she typically defeated him swiftly, easily, and sometimes painfully. However, today, Oliver began to hold his own against her. Not winning, but at least defending himself to last nearly a minute.

Ilan’s training had evolved from repetitive finger twirls to true Casting practice. Oliver would start with one type of wood, he’d cast its magic with a wand, with a staff, and then he’d move on to the next type of wood. The order was oak, elm, maple, yew, ash, and willow. As Oliver improved, Ilan made it more challenging by changing the setting. For example, the hardest challenge was he told Oliver to cast elm with a wand in his left hand, cast willow and ash with a staff in his right hand, all while hanging upside down, his feet tied to the lodge’s rafters. Ilan claimed it was a helpful exercise to prepare for casting while flying. It was boggling because he had to completely invert the casting position and the entire Carving—up was down. Somehow, Oliver managed to do it successfully, though only once, and after several dozen failed attempts.

Silas’ training was Oliver’s favorite. He had taken a liking to the written form of magery, where he could truly visualize, study, and memorize all the different Carvings. Silas showed him the scroll of the three Rare Woods but wouldn’t let him practice them yet, which was excruciating because they seemed the most exciting to Oliver. Mahogany Cast lightning, birch Cast invisibility, and ebony Cast flight. Silas also taught Oliver how to combat with magic, though not too much, since he still had so much of the basics to master first.

When Oliver was in the middle of his Casting practice—twirling a staff made of willow and yew—Ilan interrupted. “Oliver?”

Oliver turned around, catching the staff and staking it to the floor. “Yeah?”

Ilan leaned against a beam, thoughtlessly twirling a dull wand with his right hand. “I’ve just realized. We’ve been teaching you plenty about our time and our magic, but we’ve never asked you much about what things are like in your world—or in the future. And suddenly, I’m massively curious. Can I ask you some questions about it?”

Oliver leaned against the staff. “Shoot.”

“Shoot? What does that—?”

“It means go ahead and ask your questions.”

“Oh. Yes, well. It's about the future. Or your past, that is.” Ilan paused. “Is there anything you know about this war that we're in that could prove useful?”

Oliver thought about it, scratching his scruffy chin. “I don't know,” he said. “I'm no historian. And it's been a long time since I've been to any Arboler sect, so I don't know how helpful I’ll be.”

“Tell me what you do know.”

✽✽✽

Ten minutes later, Ilan stood at the chalkboard that depicted a poorly drawn representation of a world map of Merith. Oliver stood nearby, a hand on his chin, wondering if he should tell Ilan about Verence, the continent to the east that he’d completely left out of the world map. It wouldn’t be discovered for more than a thousand years from now. Probably best a little at a time, he thought. I’m already blowing his mind with what little I’ve learned in school as a child.

“And this country?” Ilan asked pointing at a nation called Newlog. “Have you heard of it?”

“Heard of it,” Oliver said with a nod. “But it becomes part of Salveria sometime after the Second Appearance.”

“Second Appearance? Like when the Guardian Appears the second time? Like right now, the year 2000?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Our history usually refers to the beginning of each new millennium as the first, second, and third Appearances because the Guardian supposedly appeared to save the day on those years. However, that dogma sort of broke down with the fourth Appearance because… well… he didn’t Appear.”

Ilan raised his eyebrows. “The Guardian didn’t Appear in the year 4000?”

Oliver shook his head, kicking up his staff and twirling it in a basic figure eight.

“Hm.” Ilan scratched his head, taking a few paces from the chalkboard. “What year did you say you’re from?”

“4027.”

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Ilan grinned wide, his bright teeth showing.

“What?” Oliver asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Oliver thought about it for a moment… and gasped.

The staff slipped from his grip, mid-twirl. It clanged a couple of times against the wooden floor and rolled to a stop near the corner of the lodge. “Are—are you saying…?”

Ilan nodded and finished the thought for him. “Maybe the Guardian of Magic did Appear on the year 4000. And maybe nobody noticed it because it was the year he was born.” He paused. “The year you were born.”

All the blood drained from Oliver’s face, making him slightly lightheaded. He stared at the wooden floor, trying to wrap his mind around this new realization.

He recalled hearing a few Reborns back in his time claim that the Guardian of Magic could be among the children born in the year 4000, but he’d never put much thought into it… until now.

Ilan laughed, grabbing Oliver by the shoulder. “Steady there,” he said. “Don’t faint on me now. I’ve still got a lot of questions I need to ask you.”

Oliver blinked and nodded slowly. “If I was born on the year of the Fourth Appearance, then wouldn’t that make me the Guardian Reborn instead of the Ascended Guardian?”

Ilan shook his head. “Most Reborns believe the Guardian Reborn should be reborn years before the new millennium. They think he should officially Appear as a grown man, not a baby. Also, our understanding of the Ascended Guardian has completely changed. We originally thought the Ascended Guardian went up to the Ascensions where he drank holy nectar and slept for a thousand years before returning. But now we know that it was actually time travel.”

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. “That actually sounds like… I’m neither. Not reincarnated. Not ascended. I’m someone else entirely.”

“The Grand Arboler didn’t think so. From what I heard, he knew you were the Guardian, no matter how you got here.”

Oliver continued to stare at the floor, recalling the old man’s words… and Kimberly’s words: Oliver, you just don’t know who you really are yet.

Ilan laughed again, apparently finding Oliver’s inner conflict entertaining. Does Ilan know what inner conflict is? Oliver thought.

“Okay,” Ilan said. “Back to my questions. You said that the Newlog nation will become a part of Salveria after the Second Appearance, right?”

Oliver nodded in response, though his mind was elsewhere. I was born on the fourth Appearance, he thought. Maybe the Guardian actually Appeared after all…

Ilan frowned and rubbed his chin, absorbing the information. “Hm. That's not too unexpected. The King of Newlog is a close ally of ours with a dwindling economy that would benefit from merging with our government. What about this country? Oakermont?”

Oliver glanced at the chalkboard. “Never heard of it.” But what about my brother? He thought. If I were the Guardian, then how could I ... it doesn’t make any sense!

“Really?” Ilan seemed alarmed. “It’s a powerful nation. I couldn’t imagine it falling for centuries!”

Oliver shrugged. It must be a coincidence, he concluded.

Ilan pointed at the country just north of Salveria. “Now tell me everything you know about Forid. This is the nation we are at war with. Lennox is its king and has turned its citizens against us.”

Coming out of his thoughts, Oliver brought more of his attention to the chalkboard. “Let’s see,” he said. “Forid still exists in my time but is much smaller than it is now. It’s the country with the highest Reborn population, even in my day. In your day—er, today—they’re all probably Reborns. That explains why they all think Lennox is the Guardian Reborn.”

“Yes. That we know.”

“Yep, and they're not the only Reborn country. There’s—”

Ilan perked up. “What?”

“Well... Barkley was their ally too.” Oliver pointed at the nation that bordered the west of Salveria and the south of Forid. “In the war, the Barklians also believed Lennox was the reincarnated Guardian and they helped him to fight against Salveria. That’s how Lennox was able to build a large enough army to nearly conquer Magen City in the end.”

Ilan gaped at Oliver.

“Didn’t you already know that?” Oliver asked.

“No, I—are you certain?”

“Yes. Well, at least I know that's what my history books say; they could be wrong. They say the King of Barkley made an alliance with Lennox to defeat Salveria. Two against one.”

Ilan looked stunned. “If what you say is true,” he eventually said, “then we've got work to do. Come with me.”

Ilan led Oliver to a small lodge—the Command Lodge, he later found out—where they pulled Silas out of an important war council meeting. “What’s this about?” he asked impatiently.

“Tell him what you told me,” Ilan said.

Oliver did.

Silas’ face twisted into a scowl before he finished. “Traitors!” he yelled, clenching his fists. “They promise they will give us aid if attacked, but instead they plot against us! They will regret this!” The general strode across the lodge, grabbed a deep brown staff off a small weapon rack and stuffed a couple of wands into his robes.

“What? Are we going to battle or something?” Oliver asked.

“Possibly. Get Ashley. Grab a staff and a wand. Let's go.” Silas left the small lodge without waiting. Ilan dashed after him, a glint of both concern and excitement in his eye. Oliver stood there, not moving a muscle, unsure what was happening and what to do.

Silas appeared again outside the doorway. “Oliver, come with us.”

Oliver bolted into action, his sore legs carrying him forward. He grabbed the last staff and wand on the rack and ran to keep up.

Outside, the sun had nearly set, allowing Moon Superior and Moon Inferior to shine brightly in the sky with the first evening stars to appear between them. The campus looked empty because most of the soldiers and mages were eating in the Cafeteria Lodge.

“Okay,” Oliver said. “I don’t know what the rush is all about. If you haven’t noticed, I’m completely lost here. I guess that news about Barkley is bad, but I don’t see why we need to hurry to—”

“Oliver.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay…. Where are we going?

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

Silas was in a rare mood. He was typically stoic and fast-paced, but now he was… extra stoic and extremely fast-paced. Oliver’s sore muscles and blistered feet screamed at him to slow down, though eventually, the pain faded. Ilan and Ashley ran to join them as Silas led them off campus and through the dimly lit, cobblestoned roads.

“Where are we headed to, sir?” Ashley asked.

“The palace,” he answered.

“And what’s there?”

“A troop of Barklian soldiers. The only one in the city, I believe. Led by three skilled mages. Stationed on the south side of the palace’s interior.” Silas paused, frowning. “Life, the most dangerous place we could have put them. What was I thinking? It would be so simple for them to assassinate the justices in their sleep!”

“But, Barkley is our ally,” Ashley stated. “Why do you think they’re dangerous?”

Silas pointed at Oliver as he walked. “Because he said Barkley will betray us.”

Ashley stared at him with a quizzical look. “Hey, don’t look at me,” Oliver said. “That’s just what Mrs. Jones taught me in my history class, okay.”

“But, he’s not the Guardian,” Ashley said to Silas. “Do you think it wise to trust his prophecies?”

Oliver tripped on a loose cobblestone, barely catching himself. Prophecies? he thought. Definitely not the word I would use to describe my knowledge of the future.

“He’s not the Guardian,” Silas said. “But he is from the future. I know because I’ve been there. So, yes, I trust him.”

They were all quiet for a moment as they walked ever closer to the palace at the center of the city. Its dark figure loomed above them. Several windows were lit with either candlelight or magical light cast from oak. Oliver had learned earlier that the palace housed the seven Justices who ran the country.

Ashley clicked her tongue in disgust. “Barklian traitors!”

Once the green-clad guards on the other side of the gate recognized the General, they opened it without question, letting them enter the courtyard without the palace.

“The Barklian troop should be on the other side of the courtyard,” Silas explained. “We will ask them a few pointed questions, and if they refuse to answer or if they show any sign of insubordination, then we will attack.”

Oliver stopped in his tracks, gripping his staff in front of him, his heart thumping wildly. “Wait, did you say attack?”