Chapter 8

“You shall nurture, prune, and care for the trees. If necessary, you may transplant them.”

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

Deal

After Grand Arboler Parley left the room, the seven Justices huddled together to discuss their options. Oliver and Silas waited in awkward silence until they were done.

Me? Oliver thought. Become the Guardian of Magic?

Thoughts and feelings were churning within him faster than an electric turbine. At one moment, he felt exhilarated with the idea that he could be such an important person; the fame, the honor, the glory. And then he remembered the religious aspect and he got a bitter taste in his mouth.

His mind got lost in wonder as he fathomed what magic would be like and how quickly he could master it. A thousand questions came to him about how magic worked, how long would it take to learn, why wood was essential for it work, and how powerful he would become. Then, when he recalled that he’d recently mocked Kimberly and all the Arbolers for believing in magic, he felt an empty, guilty pit in his stomach.

He remembered that the Guardian of Magic had Appeared in the Age of War to put a stop to Lennox Elmson’s tyrannical scheme. This made Oliver nervous, daunted by the task. The Guardian was a mighty warrior on the battlefield, Oliver was not. He was a politician. Could I become a warrior? he wondered. He was decently athletic but had never trained for military combat. Maybe I could.

He tried to fit together a timeframe of how he could be the Guardian. Time travel opened up possibilities he was still unable to fully comprehend. Every one thousand years the Guardian made a special Appearance, he thought. Right now, I’m in the year 2000. Does that mean that—if I were the Guardian—I’ll eventually need to travel to the year 1000 for the first Appearance? And then the year 3000 for the third? And then I can go home to 4027?

His heart did a somersault.

Home?

He needed to get back home to his own time. He needed to help out with the lumber debate. But what if I were to return home as the Guardian of Magic? he thought. I just declared in court that he never existed… and then to return as him? That boggled his mind. He would be shamed for being so mistaken. How would the Seculars react? How would the Arbolers react? Would they expect me to protect their trees? Flames, I’m not even sure if the Guardian even exists!

For ten minutes, Oliver stewed over these things, still unsure whether it was possible for himself to be the Guardian. Then he remembered one final thing. An extremely important detail that pushed all uncertain thoughts to the corners of his mind.

His brother.

The Guardian of Magic does not exist, he thought decidedly. Magic is real. Time travel is real. But the Guardian is not.

Finally finished with their deliberations, the seven Justices walked over to where Oliver and Silas were standing. Oliver noticed how much they nostalgically resembled the Justices from year 4027. He marveled at how the Salverian governing system had lasted for thousands of years with minor changes.

“While the Grand Arboler does not govern Salveria,” Head Justice Resin said, “we highly honor his counsel.”

Oh, flames, Oliver thought.

One of the female Justices spoke up. “We’d always assumed we would be able to simply recognize the Guardian when he Appeared, but the Grand Arboler brought up a good point. If we could recognize him, then what purpose would a key phrase serve?”

Resin nodded, answering the question. “We believe the key phrase was put in place by the Guardian a thousand years ago, so we could identify him. And that would only be necessary if the man who said the key phrase did not seem to fit the part. Ergo, we are choosing to trust the Arboler’s judgement that Oliver indeed is the Guardian of Magic.”

Oliver folded his arms and shook his head. Silas heaved a deep sigh and pressed his lips together, as if he were biting his tongue.

“But what if I don’t believe I am the Guardian?” Oliver asked.

“Yes,” Resin said admittedly. “That is a conundrum, but—”

Oliver interrupted. “I know you folks are well-meaning, and that you all want your Guardian to Appear and save you from Lennox, but I can’t help you. Have any of you ever considered that the Guardian isn’t real?”

Every single one of them, Silas included, scowled at him.

“No, seriously, think about it. Open your minds and at least consider the possibility. What if the Guardian of Magic isn’t really a single man who Appears throughout time? What if whenever a mighty man steps forward and achieves some great feat, people start considering him to be a god and call him their Guardian?

“And over time, the stories of that man are embellished; they exaggerate his abilities, making him sound supernatural. So, the Guardian of Magic may not actually be a person, but an idea, an ideal, a story that has developed over history.”

The Justices were giving him glares, but he didn’t stop.

“For example,” he said. “Silas here might actually be the one who will slay Lennox Elmson. He goes down in history as a hero, and then is eventually remembered as the Guardian of Magic during the Second Appearance. Don’t you think that could be the case? Doesn’t that make much more sense than believing in a man who is supposed to be our Guardian, but fails to do so when it really matters? Doesn’t logic just make much more sense than blind faith?”

Resin was the first to respond. “How can you logically explain the key phrase?”

“A coincidence,” Oliver said. “The question was stilted so anyone would answer it the same way I did.”

The Justices shook their head in unison. “Sorry, Oliver,” Resin said. “We believe you’re mistaken.”

Oliver heaved a sigh of frustration. “Please, is there anything I can do to convince you to send me back home to my time? I’m begging you. Out of the goodness of your hearts, could you please send a man back to the world from which you stole him?”

“We’re willing to strike you a deal.” The Justices looked at each other, and then Justice Resin continued. “Oliver, we will send you home if you help us in return. We need you to do as the Grand Arboler suggested: present yourself to the nation as the Guardian of Magic, even if you don’t believe it, and train in magery under Silas.”

Silas clicked his tongue and frowned but didn’t say anything.

Oliver thought about it. The idea of pretending to be the Guardian was nauseating. “Are you willing to reconsider or negotiate?”

Resin shook his head. The other Justices mimicked him.

“How long?”

“Until the war’s over.”

Oliver hung his head. “How long has the war been going?”

“Five treacherous years.”

“Five?” I could be stuck here, he thought. Stuck in the past. I could even get killed in the war…

“Most of the battles have been at the nation’s borders, but just recently Lennox has successfully pushed into the heart of Salveria. We need to make a stand at Cambium, the last city between Lennox and us, and we believe the people will be encouraged to know they have the Guardian of Magic here on their side. Just your presence alone could help us win the war.”

After a moment of silence, Oliver asked, “And then you’ll send me home?”

“Yes, then we’ll send you home.” Justice Resin made a grim face. “But if we lose the war…”

“We won’t lose the war,” Silas said firmly in his deep voice.

Resin gave the general a long stare and then turned back to Oliver. “Let’s just say… that you’ll want to do your very best to impress and invigorate the people of Salveria. You’ll need to convince them you’re the Guardian of Magic.”

“You’ll need to convince us,” the youngest Justice said with mocking skepticism. Apparently, not all the Justices wholeheartedly agreed with the Grand Arboler.

“And who knows,” Resin said. “Maybe that’s who you’ll eventually become. So, what do you say?”

Oliver still felt sick when he thought about pretending to be the Guardian. How bizarre, he thought. But I do know how to ‘impress and invigorate’ a people. And I know how to make and maintain an image. Maybe I really could help them win this war. As long as I don’t fight in it.

“Okay,” Oliver said. “You leave me no choice and no other way of returning home. It’s more of an ultimatum than a deal, really. I guess I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Resin said, not too surprised. “Then here’s the plan. Tomorrow we will present you to the people. Today you will begin your training, starting immediately.”

“Hold on,” Silas said. “I haven’t agreed to this. I shouldn’t be spending my time training this… mistake…. I should be at Cambium making preparations to defend the city. Couldn’t someone else train him?”

“The Grand Arboler asked you to do it,” Resin said. “And with good reason. Who better to train the Guardian than the best mage in all Salveria? Maybe even the best on Merith?”

“My skills will be better used at Cambium, where it really matters.”

“You don’t believe he is the Guardian?”

Silas hesitated to answer, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before speaking. “I don’t know. What I do know is that the battle at Cambium will be a critical turning point. Losing that battle could lose the war. The reason I used the Guardian’s Wand and traveled to the Ascensions—or whatever place it was—was to bring back the Guardian who was ready to help. Who could save us, and save us now? Not someone I’d need to train, starting at the basics.”

“All of our expectations were off,” Resin said, remaining much calmer than Silas. “We have to accept that and make the best with what we’ve got. You can go to Cambium in one week. Train Oliver here, let us present him to the nation, and then take him with you to Cambium.”

Silas didn’t respond. Oliver could tell from Resin’s tone that he was giving an order, not making a suggestion. And if the Salverian government was the same here as it was in 4027, then orders from the Head Justice—undisputed by the other six Justices—was law. And all the Justices were nodding their heads in agreement.

Silas gave the Justices a stiff bow. “Very well,” he said, then turned on his heels and strode out of the courtroom. “Pretender, come with me, we have work to do. Prepare for the most intense training of your entire life.”

It took Oliver a moment to realize Silas was referring to him. He heaved a deep sigh, wishing this had gone differently, and ran to keep up with the long-legged general.