Chapter 20

“Wait for me with exceeding patience. Never lose heart. I will return in one thousand years.”

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

Wand

When Oliver arrived at the room where the Guardian’s Wand was kept, he spotted a single guard standing in front of the door. He seemed to be on the alert due to the commotion outside.

Very quietly, and still completely invisible, Oliver crept up as close as he could get to him without being noticed. Once he was within a staff’s length, he fished his drone screen out of his pocket and tossed it at the soldier’s feet.

The moment it left his fingers, the screen suddenly appeared out of thin air. Startled, the guard looked down at the screen near his toes. Oliver swung his invisible staff, whacking the guard directly in the face. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

“Ashley,” Oliver whispered to himself as he stepped over the guard and opened the door. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m actually grateful for your training.”

It was there, in a secluded yet ornate room, he spotted what had to be the Guardian’s Wand placed on a metal pedestal. He recognized its white color, whiter than any other wood, like snow. Unlike all other wands he’d seen up to this point, the Guardian’s Wand had elaborate designs on it. An assortment of vines and leaves were etched into its wood, not only making it look beautiful, but also making it easier to grip and twirl.

He cautiously picked it up. It immediately disappeared when he touched it. It was heavy… very heavy. With the wand in his hand, a new emotion flooded into his heart.

Excitement.

I’m going home, he thought. I’m finally going home!

He imagined reappearing in the middle of the Justices verdict for the Lumber Debate. The look on the Justices’ faces. The gasp from the crowd. The flashes from the news cameras. The tears from Kimberly’s eyes.

Of course, there were some problems with that daydream. He’d argued to the Justices that magic didn’t exist… and then to magically appear out of thin air in front of them? Probably not the best thing for his debate.

Things would be different. He would go home a different person. He’d be a… believer. Maybe not an Arboler. But, no longer a Secular, at least. Magic was real. The Lennoxian War was real. Should he tell people about his magical journey? Who would believe him? Should he change his position in the Lumber Debate?

One thing at a time, Oliver thought. First, I got to figure out if I can even use this thing.

Before leaving, he observed an intricate plaque on the pedestal. It had words inscribed on it, which read:

Thus sayeth the guardian: I leave with you my wand and this final Instruction. Watch for the day when a false guardian shall deceive many. Then, shall one, a head general of the army, use this wand to bring me to your aid. He will ask abroad: do you intend to destroy the world? One shall answer: no, I intend to save the world from destroying itself. The one who sayeth thusly is me. Then shall the general use this wand to bring me to your aid, and I will come forth with vengeance and power to conquer your enemies and the false guardian. – Rigel Knotsworth, year 1002

Rigel Knotsworth…. Oliver recognized the name but from a distant memory. One of the ancient mages or Grand Arbolers, no doubt. He reflected on that day when he first met Silas. Did I really say those words exactly?

He quickly brushed off those thoughts when he heard voices in the hallway. Time to go.

On his way out of the room, he picked up the drone screen and put it back in his pocket. It was flashing in big red letters that the battery was about to die.

He rushed out of the palace, dodging soldiers as they rushed past him. The courtyard was filled with chaos. Looking up, he saw that the drone still flew, narrowly dodging arrows, red staff extensions, and flames that shot out of ash staves. It kept the guards busy until one of them pulled out a mahogany staff and Cast a bolt of lightning at it, frying it to pieces mid-air. They cheered, slapping the soldier on the back.

Still invisible, Oliver smirked back at them as he snuck out the palace gate just as one of the guards walked in. Oliver ran down the cobblestone streets, anxious to get away before they discovered the Guardian’s Wand was stolen.

By the time he reached Magen City’s outer walls, the birch had extinguished, but he held on to it just to be safe. He wouldn’t need to be invisible to get through the city gate. He had a different plan for that.

“Who goes there?” called one of the guards at the gate.

“It is I!” Oliver said in a bold, deep voice. “Oliver Kapur.”

The guard’s eyebrows shot up. “The Guardian!” The dozen guards at the gate gave him a salute, fist over the heart.

“Yes,” Oliver said. “I request, good sirs, that you allow me to exit, for the Tree of Life has called for my presence, even at this late hour. It is extremely important that I see her at once.”

The soldiers looked at each other. “Yes, my lord.”

The gate opened, and Oliver rushed out. Looking back, he shouted, “Your kind assistance will not go unnoticed by me or by Life herself!”

“Thank you, my lord!”

With another smirk, Oliver pulled over the hood on his mage robes and jogged into the Capital Grove—or what they called the Grove of Life in this time period. It took him a while to find the center in the dark. Moon Superior had hidden itself behind a large cloud. Crickets and frogs in the Grove created a soothing white noise for Oliver as he jogged. He wished he still had his drone to give him an aerial view, but he could just get a new one when he got to 4027.

Winded from all the running, Oliver caught his breath as he stood next to the Tree of Life. Again, he was astounded by its sheer size and unique whiteness. He stared at it expectantly.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “Moment of truth.”

He pulled the Guardian’s Wand out of his robe and held it in Casting position. He also held up another parchment with a Carving on it. It was the same Carving Oliver saw on the Tree of Life when Silas created the time portal.

With the wand in Casting position, Oliver performed the routine. It was complicated, but not as hard as the birch Carving. When he finished, he tensed up, expecting a purple vortex to open.

But nothing happened.

Unfazed, Oliver tried again, figuring it would take a few tries to get it right, just like the birch had. He tried again. And again. And again.

About ten minutes passed. Still nothing.

The wand slipped out of Oliver’s cramping hands and fell to the forest floor. He didn’t pick it up. “Flaming ashes!” he yelled, bringing clenched fists up to his temples. “Why isn’t it working?”

“I don’t know.”

Oliver whirled around to see Silas, floating three feet off the ground, a black wand in his hand, his expression unreadable.

Oliver picked up his staff, his heart thumping, and aimed the bladed tip at the general. “Stay back!” he said. “You can’t stop me!”

Silas tilted his head. “Even in the dark, and even from this far away, I can tell that your birch staff is completely extinguished. You know that I can stop you, Oliver… very easily.”

Oliver tightened his grip on the staff, but Silas wasn’t attacking, just standing there, in the air, observing. “How long have you been there?” Oliver asked.

“Five minutes.”

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. “You… you were hoping I would go.” It wasn’t a question.

Silas stared at him for a long moment, saying nothing.

Oliver sniffed, looking at the white wand in his hand. “So, what am I doing wrong?”

Silas let go of his black wand, and he dropped three feet to the ground, landing softly. The black wand continued to hover in the air beside him. He opened his palm out to Oliver, who reluctantly gave the wand to the general. Silas immediately started twirling it in the same Carving Oliver had tried a few dozen times. “As I said—and I’m afraid I’m right—I don’t know what you’re doing wrong.”

Silas finished the Carving routine, and nothing happened. He did it again, slower—which was still much faster than Oliver. Again, nothing happened. He then performed a different Carving Oliver’d never seen. He did it a couple of times with no result.

With a deep breath, Silas stared at the wand, frowning. “It’s as I feared…”

“Flames!” Oliver said. “It has to work!”

“I’ve seen two different Carvings on the Tree. The Carving to travel to the year 4027, and the Carving to travel back to the year 2000. I just tried both a couple of times, and neither one of them are working.”

“Are you sure you performed them right?”

“Yes. I’m sure. What this means is…” He hesitated to finish.

“I’m stuck,” Oliver stated, feeling his spirits plummet. “I’m never going home.”

They both jumped when they heard a stick snap from around the far side of the Tree of Life’s massive trunk. Footsteps on leaves came around the Tree. A short, old man appeared, holding a staff of his own. “Don’t you go and give up so soon, you sap nut.”

“Grand Arboler Parley!” Silas said, falling to one knee, fist over his heart.

Oliver started, his hair standing on end. “Were you behind the Tree this whole time? How’d you know I’d come here?”

“That will be my little secret,” Parley said in his high-pitched voice. He looked at Silas. “General?”

“I can explain—”

“No need, you lummox.” Parley walked closer to them, leaning heavily on his cane. “I’ve heard everything. And frankly, I’m appalled, General. You were going to help him return home?”

Silas stammered.

“Well it’s a good thing you can’t,” Parley continued. “Life is much smarter than that.”

“Look, mister… Arboler… guy,” Oliver said. “This whole pretend-to-be-the-Guardian thing just isn’t working. The fact is… you’ve got the wrong guy and I need to get back to my own time. So, do you know of any hidden secret or technique or Carving to send me back?”

Parley glared at Oliver for a moment and then swung his staff, hitting Oliver in the shin. “Hey!” Oliver yelled. “Watch it!”

Parley swung again, but this time, Oliver lowered his birch staff and blocked it. “You say it’s not working?” the Grand Arboler said. “Look at what you just did, you bark fungus!”

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows, no longer finding the old man’s insults entertaining. “It’s not that hard to block an attack from an old—”

Parley grabbed onto Oliver’s staff. “Not that! You cast birch, all on your own! One of the hardest woods to Cast!”

Silas blinked as he considered Parley’s words.

“And that’s not all,” Parley said. “You managed to break into the palace and steal the Guardian’s Wand, right from under our noses. And then take it through the city gate. Few could manage, and few could have the bravery for such a feat.”

Oliver blinked, considering his words, and then rolled his eyes. “It’s not bravery. It’s desperation. I desperately want to go back to my time.”

“But you can’t, you numbskull! Not until another Carving appears on the Tree of Life.”

“Another Carving?” Silas asked. “So that’s why the Guardian’s Wand won’t work.”

“Yes, well… it’s a bit more complicated than that.” The Grand Arboler puckered his lips, taking a few steps with his cane around the moonlit grove.

“So, when will the next Carving appear?” Oliver asked impatiently.

“To answer that, answer me this… whose wand is this?”

“Uh… the Guardian’s,” Oliver said mockingly. “That’s part of its title.”

Parley shook his head.

“It’s Life’s,” Silas said. “The Guardian’s Wand is also called the Wand of Life. It was cut from the heart of the Tree of Life.”

“Precisely. This wand only works if Life wills it to work. The Guardian is not in charge. Life is. She calls him and determines when and where he must go. She will give us a new Carving when it is time for you to go.”

“What are you saying?” Oliver asked. “This wand won’t work because… god doesn’t want it to?”

“Why… yes,” the Grand Arboler said, smirking at Oliver’s skeptical expression. “Quite simple really. That’s why Silas could Cast it earlier but can’t Cast it now. It never had anything to do with technique or speed. It was all timing—Life’s timing. She knows all past, present, and future. She knew when it was time for the prophecy to be fulfilled… for a general to travel to the Guardian’s world and bring him here.”

The old man took a step toward Oliver, his smile disappeared. “Life won’t let you go home because you’re not meant to go home… at least not yet. If you weren’t the Guardian of Magic, then Life would have let you go, letting yourself or Silas take you back. But since the wand didn’t work, that can only mean one thing.” Parley took another step toward Oliver, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You are the Guardian of Magic, Oliver! Life has chosen you! You’re supposed to be here! It’s time to accept your destiny!”

Trying to appear as if the old man hadn’t unnerved him, Oliver cleared his throat. “I don’t even believe in the—”

“And Silas!” the Grand Arboler said intensely, ignoring Oliver’s rebuttal. “You are the prophesied general who has brought us the Guardian of Magic! You did not make a mistake! You followed the Instructions precisely, and yet you doubted Life’s wisdom and timing! You should know better, General!”

Silas stared at the Grand Arboler for a tense moment, and then looked at the ground, unable to bear Parley’s piercing gaze. “The wand, please,” Parley said, extending his hand toward Silas. “You know now that it won’t work. No point in keeping it. There is no replacing Oliver. He is our Guardian.”

Silas glanced at Oliver. What did Oliver see in his mentor’s eyes? Disbelief? Anger? Disgust? Resignation? Perhaps each of those and in that order.

Oliver returned a livid scowl. His only option of returning home had withered away. He was stuck here for… who knows how long, with insane people who think he’s their guardian. He couldn’t come up with any argument that could help him get home.

The wand didn’t work. That was that.

Silas sighed, handing the Guardian’s Wand over to Parley. “Thank you, General,” Parley said. “Now, you two should go get some rest. You have a long journey to Cambium tomorrow.”