Chapter 13

“These dark monsters we have defeated came from the very depths of the fiery dwelling place of the Enemy. Let us rejoice that they will no longer come out to eat your children at night or slaughter the woman who goes to the well for water.”

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

Carpentry

Oliver and Silas walked across campus in the dark. Crickets chirped in the grass. Moon Superior and Moon Inferior shone brightly above with stars glowing around them. Other mages meandered around campus. Oliver overheard a conversation between two female mages as they passed by without looking at him.

“Do you think he can really defeat Lennox?” the tall woman asked.

“Yes,” the shorter woman said. “Don’t you?”

“Of course. I just don’t know how. I’m curious, that’s all. I wonder what he’s truly capable of.”

“Me too.”

“I thought he would have the legendary staff with him, but I didn’t see him wielding anything this morning.”

“He’s probably saving it for when we go to battle.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

The short woman cleared her throat. “Out of curiosity, did it happen to cross your mind that he is… fairly handsome?”

The tall woman elbowed the other woman. “Lorela, I’m shocked! How could you think such a thing?”

“Well, it is true, is it not?”

“A man as important and reverently regarded as the Guardian of Magic must never…”

They walked out of earshot.

Oliver and Silas arrived at one of the lodges, the one closest to the school’s entrance, and perhaps one of the largest on campus. They entered, and Oliver immediately smelled a stuffiness in the air. The lodge had a large room lit by oak logs in the corners and filled with half a dozen tables.

What Oliver saw before him was an Arboler’s worst nightmare.

Upon the tables were bits of wood and all manner of saws, wedges, drills, and axes. Wood everywhere that had been chopped, carved, cut, sanded, and sometimes discarded. The floor was covered with a blanket of small pieces of wood. He marveled at the scene, wishing he could bring this to his own time in 4027. This was his vision.

Wood being used for something useful.

“This is the school’s Carpentry Lodge,” Silas said. “This is where the magic is made… literally.”

“What’s that invasive scent?” Oliver asked, crinkling his nose.

“It’s called sawdust. It’s a byproduct of cutting wood, so are the woodchips beneath our feet.”

“Oh. And where are all of the… what do you call them?”

Silas raised his eyebrows. “Carpenters?”

“Yes, carpenters.” Oliver pinched himself for not remembering that word. For him, the only carpenters he knew of were in the distant country, Verence, who had started cutting and using wood around 4020.

“Who’s calling for my services, then?”

A round man wearing a green apron strolled out of one of the side rooms, grinning wearily.

“There you are, Tasen,” Silas said with a smile. “Oliver, this is the army’s Master Carpenter, Tasen.”

Tasen had a red scraggly beard and pale skin. Some of the hair on his head had turned gray. He was short, like Oliver, but twice his girth. His green apron had some golden embroideries over his left breast. Oliver figured his green apron was a symbol of his role as Master Carpenter just like Silas’ green robe was a symbol of Head General and mage. What shocked Oliver the most about Tasen was the wooden pipe in his mouth.

“You smoke?” Oliver asked. “And you’re a carpenter?” He looked at woodchips on the floor. “Isn’t wood… quite flammable?”

Tasen laughed a deep rumble. “Oh, Silas, where did you find this lad? With a question like that and with that boring accent, he most certainly cannot be from these parts. Is he… the…?”

Silas nodded but didn’t meet the carpenter’s eyes. “He’s the Guardian. His name is Oliver Kapur.”

“Huh…”

They were silent for a moment.

Tasen cleared his throat and pull his pipe out of his mouth. “With magic, we don’t have to worry too much about fires because we keep our yew wands and staves close. We can cast water on an open flame in a matter of seconds.” Tasen stepped closer to Oliver. “But I’d supposed the Guardian would already know that.” He shrugged. “I have always wondered the Guardian’s name. It ain’t spelled out in the Holy Instructions. For some reason, the Guardian never disclosed it. Haven’t you wondered, Silas?”

“I haven’t thought of it much,” Silas said.

“Well, I have. And now I know it. Oliver, eh?” The large man studied Oliver from head to toe. “Fitting. And Kapur.” He paused. “Do you know what Kapur means, young man?”

“No,” Oliver said, folding his arms and tightening his lips. “I thought it was just a name.”

“Why, it’s a tree. A hardwood. Very rare in Salveria, kapur grows in the tropics. Its magical properties are yet to be discovered, so there hasn’t been any demand for it. Perhaps one day there will be, but not now.”

Oliver huffed and muttered, “I’m named after a tree?”

“Most people are.”

“Tasen,” Silas said. “What I’m about to tell you is confidential. The Justices believe Oliver is the Guardian in training. We need to teach him all there is to know about magery. Will you show him how a staff is made?”

“The Guardian in training, you say?” The carpenter took a long draw on his pipe and puffed out a cloud of smoke. “That’s unexpected. But not impossible, I suppose. If you believe it, General, then so will I.”

Silas frowned.

“Azif! Ren!” Tasen shouted. Two burly young men jogged into the room, both wearing green aprons similar to Tasen’s but without the embroideries. “We’ve got ourselves one last order for the day. The Guardian of Magic wants to see us make a staff.” The two men stared at Oliver with wide eyes. “Well, hop to it!” Tasen ordered. “Grab some pine, yew, and willow! Let’s show him our finest work!”

They dashed around the room grabbing a few long logs and tools. Tasen hobbled behind them, shouting more orders.

“The secret… is in the evergreens,” Silas said as they watched the carpenters work. “There are two major tree families on Merith: deciduous and coniferous. Deciduous trees lose their leaves every winter; coniferous trees keep their needle-like leaves year-round. Some deciduous woods—such as oak, ash, and yew—Cast a variety of magic that you’ve already witnessed, but coniferous woods—like pine, fir, and cedar—Cast only one type of magic: orientation.” Silas pulled a wand out of his robe pockets and handed it to Oliver. “Do you see that little node at the tip of the wand?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said.

“It is a sliver of pine the same length as the wand. It was inserted into the middle of the wand when it was first crafted. Without it, the wand wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Magic needs a direction. Think about it. To cast magic, you must spin the tip of the wand in a specific way. But, what is the tip? If you broke a branch off of a tree like you suggested earlier, then which end of the stick would you use as the tip?”

Oliver frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Neither does the branch.” Silas spun the oak wand around his fingers. “The wood needs to know which direction the tip is before you can perform its proper Carving and cast its magic. You have to start with the tip up. But it doesn’t know which end is up. That’s where coniferous wood comes into play. It has the ability to orient the magic within any wood it touches. The trick is getting that sliver of coniferous wood inside a deciduous wand, staff, arrow, or log.”

“I assume that’s why we’re here.”

“Right. Watch the masters at work.”

The carpenters cut the yew and willow logs to the same length as Oliver’s height with saws. They placed the two logs, one at a time, into a large, metal contraption equipped with a plethora of circular gears and saws. Ren and Azif powered the machine by pedaling wide levers with their feet; the gears and saws spun fast enough to create a loud, metal-grinding screech. Oliver had seen saws before, but never put together like this, and never for cutting wood.

“That machine is called a cylindrill,” Silas said. “Invented somewhere in the early 1100s by Quindal Stemming. Perfected now, after 900 years of use. Its purpose is to—”

“Let me guess,” Oliver interrupted. “Make cylinders?”

Tasen pulled several switches that made the opening narrower and then he pushed the first log into the machine. A sharp, buzzing sound echoed throughout the lodge and more sawdust filled the air as the machine cut into the log. A few seconds later, a narrow, cylindrical staff came out the other end and fell into a large container

Silas smirked. “The machine’s name is quite practical, isn’t it?” Tasen pushed the second log into the cylindrill and out came another staff. Silas spoke over the noise. “They can adjust its settings to make smaller cylinders for arrows and wands.”

Azif and Ren stopped pedaling and the gears and saws gradually stopped spinning. Tasen grabbed the two recently-cut staves and carried them to another table, which was another cutting machine itself. Ren sat in a chair connected to the table and began pedaling levers with his feet which powered one large, metal saw at the table’s head. Azif clamped the staff in place and Tasen carefully pushed the spinning saw down a metal inseam across the table, splitting the staff cleanly from top to bottom.

Oliver tilted his head. “Why are they cutting the staff in half?”

“Do you remember what yew Casts?” Silas asked.

“Water.”

“Right. Casting yew alone will produce a gentle gurgle of water.”

Oliver hummed. “That’s right. You have to combine yew with willow. Willow casts wind which pushes the water outward.”

“Yes. But how do you combine yew and willow into one staff?” Silas gestured an open hand toward the carpenters.

Tasen placed the second staff on the table and carefully pushed the saw across the table again, cutting it in half. To the inner edges of each half, Tasen and Azif attached metal interlocks with screws while Ren carefully carved out a long sliver from the pine log. The interlocks allowed the carpenters to slide a yew half and willow half together with a soft click. The staves were shaped so perfectly that the two halves together looked like one staff, the seam between them barely visible.

“Those interlocks are a premium product from the local blacksmith,” Silas said. “People can get cheaper dual staves with leather straps, but those often fail.”

“Can you put three woods together in one staff?” Oliver asked.

“A triple staff? Theoretically, it’s possible, but never been done successfully. Maybe one day Tasen will figure it out.”

Azif placed the staff in a wooden contraption that held it securely in place. Using a long hand drill, Tasen created a small hole right down the staff’s center, from top to bottom. Ren dipped the sliver of pine in a barrel of glossy liquid—which had to be some sort of strong adhesive—and inserted it into the hole, a perfect fit. The carpenters quickly strapped a bladed tip to one end of the staff.

Oliver admired their efficiency. They’d obviously made hundreds of staves together and perfected their craft.

He wondered if he could replicate everything they did and teach it to the people in 4027. Of course, he’d have to convince the Arbolers first that cutting wood wasn’t bad. There had to be an error in their doctrine somewhere that led them to believe cutting wood was wrong. They claimed the Guardian told them to stop cutting trees in the year 3000 because trees were about to become extinct, but Oliver doubted that to be true. And even if it were true, it couldn’t apply to 4027. Trees thrived in abundance there. If people who believe in the Guardian can cut wood here in 2000, he thought, then I don’t see why they can’t do it in 4027.

“There’s one final step,” Silas said.

Tasen held the yew-willow staff in front of him, the end with the small blade affixed to it pointing upward, and he began twirling it at a steady speed. It was a simple Carving; it took him only a few seconds to perform. Tasen ended with the staff in Casting position, the bladed tip vertical.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Nothing happened.”

Silas opened his mouth to explain, but Tasen spoke first. “Alright, General,” he said after sucking on his pipe; smoke seeped out his mouth as he spoke. “Here’s a yew-willow staff for you. Hope you find it satisfactory.”

Silas observed it appraisingly and gave it a few vertical twirls. “Great work, Tasen. And quick. That’s what we want to see.”

Tasen raised a cautioning hand. “That glue is fresh, mind you. Give it a day to set before twirling it too fast.”

Silas asked a few logistical questions about the number of logs, staves, arrows, and wands being made per day and whether there was enough greenwood coming in. A moment later, they saluted, fist over chest, and Silas left with Oliver back to the Mages Lodge.

“What was that final step for?” Oliver asked as they walked. “It looked like Tasen tried to Cast something, but it didn’t work.”

“Something did work, you just can’t see it.” Silas leaned against the wall, his arms folded. “Tasen performed the Carving for pine. When he Cast its magic, it oriented the yew and willow touching it toward the upward end of the staff. Now, that staff knows the end with the blade is its tip, so yew and willow can be Cast properly. Without the magic of orientation from that sliver of pine, that staff would be useless.”

“Wow, that is complicated. No wonder Verence hasn’t stumbled upon magic yet. They would have to not only know that coniferous and deciduous wood needs to be combined, but they would also have to know the proper Carving for each type of wood.”

“I don’t know who Verence is, but you’re right. There may have been plenty of children in your time who played with sticks and unintentionally performed the proper Carvings, but without the wood knowing which way its tip is, it couldn’t Cast its magic.”

Oliver smirked. “It's funny. The wood ‘knows which way its tip is.’ You talk about wood like it’s alive and sentient.”

Silas paused, raising an eyebrow. “Well… it is. Every tree, branch, twig, and leaf are appendages of the Tree of Life.” He paused. “Is that not taught in your time?”

“It is… by most sects.” Oliver stared at his feet as he walked. “But I wasn’t a believer. Most people there aren’t.”

“You weren’t a believer, but now you are?”

Oliver didn’t answer.

“I guess that would be difficult,” Silas said. “To change your beliefs so suddenly.”

Oliver shrugged. “It actually isn’t that hard. Once I saw magic, I instantly believed it. That was easy. But the Guardian of Magic….” He was silent for a moment. “That’s tough. And… the notion that I am the Guardian?” He shook his head. “Not a chance. As exciting as it would be to be the most powerful man in the world, I just can’t accept it.”

Silas nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad we agree on this subject. It makes your training easier. I’ll train you to survive, not to… defend.”

They walked into the Mages Lodge. It was smaller than the others and had enough rooms for plenty of mages to sleep in. However, it remained empty because Silas ordered it to be off limits while the Guardian stayed there. Oliver knew that was just a front, so no one would come in and watch him training and wonder why the Guardian was so underprepared and inexperienced in magery.

Oliver walked over to the table with two scrolls spread open and the one still rolled closed. “If I survive and make it back home, I look forward to showing the world in 4027 how magic works. Could I take these scrolls with me?”

Silas thought about it. “We have plenty, so yes, that should be fine.”

Oliver started to unwrap the third scroll, but Silas placed a hand on it. “Not yet,” he said. “This scroll is about the three rare woods: mahogany, ebony, and birch. They are extremely powerful, complicated, and dangerous. I don’t want to go over them or even tell you what they do until you have mastered the first six woods. Some students have been seriously injured or killed by attempting to cast the magic from these woods before they were sufficiently prepared.”

Oliver hesitantly let go of the scroll. “Well, I know one of them has to Cast the magic of flying. I saw Ilan fly! I’d really like to learn that!”

“Believe me, you don’t want to start flying before you’re ready.”

“I promise not to go too high too fast.”

Silas didn’t argue, he just gave Oliver another flat stare.

“Okay, so anyways, these three scrolls are all there is?” Oliver asked. “Didn’t you say there were twelve woods of power? I’ve only counted nine, so far. Three Wand Woods, three Staff Woods, and three Rare Woods.”

Silas started rolling up the scrolls on the table. “The tenth wood is all the coniferous wood types. Since they all Cast the same magic of orientation, we designate them as one. There is another scroll for carpentry, but you’ve already seen how it works.”

“Right. And the last two woods?”

“The last two are the wand and staff of Life, also called the Guardian’s Wand and the Guardian’s Staff. White, divine woods from the bosom of the Tree of Life. There is only one wand and one staff. The Guardian’s Wand you’ve already seen. It has the power to travel to other worlds—”

“And apparently through time,” Oliver said.

“Apparently. And the Guardian’s Staff is said to be all powerful… but we don’t really know what that means. It hasn’t been seen since the last Appearance in the year 1000. It’s possible the Guardian took the staff with him when he Ascended. Or he could’ve left it here, somewhere on Merith, and it has been hidden for centuries. We don’t know. We all assumed… the Guardian would have it when he Appeared.”

Oliver raised a finger. “Yet another reason why I’m not the Guardian; I have no all-powerful staff.”

Silas nodded. “I wish I’d pointed that out to the Justices, though I don’t think anything could’ve changed their mind once the Grand Arboler stepped in.”

Oliver made a bitter face. “So strange. The Justices in my time would never give a flame about what the Grand Arboler thought.”

“Really? Would you say the future is better than what you’ve seen here in the year 2000?”

“Oh, yes. Our technology is outstanding. Our understanding of the science and nature are beyond impressive. We’ve invented rockets and personal drones. The future is—”

“And do your people have magic?”

Oliver paused. “Well, no. But our technology may seem like magic to the people of your time.”

“Is there peace in 4027?”

“Yes. Well… there aren’t any major wars going on if that’s what you mean.”

“No wars.” Silas looked up with curious eyes. “Do you consider it peaceful?”

Oliver thought about it. There wasn’t any war in his time. But the debate came to mind. The hostile tension he sensed between Arbolers and Seculars. The shooting that ended the debate. “Mostly,” he said. “Mostly peace. If I don’t make it back in time though… we may lose that peace. I really was doing what I told you when we first met: trying to save the world from destroying itself.”

Silas nodded, deep in thought. They were silent for a moment. Oliver gazed over the scroll again, and then he realized there was something familiar about the Carvings. He gasped and grabbed a spare roll of paper, a quill with ink, and began drawing on it. It took him a moment to hold onto the quill correctly; it wasn’t as thick as most pens he was accustomed to.

“What are you doing?” Silas asked with a frown.

“The Tree of Life…” Oliver said as he drew. “The strange character that appeared on its trunk…. with the white light coming out of it…”

“…was a Carving,” Silas confirmed. “I suppose that’s why we call them Carvings. But no one has ever seen a Carving on Life’s trunk, until I did. The Guardian’s Wand started flashing. The Justices knew it was a sign for the prophecy to be fulfilled. I was the designated General to go, as it says in the Holy Instructions. And when I took the Guardian’s Wand to Life, I saw a Carving on its trunk. I performed the Carving and I appeared in your world—er, time.”

Silas shook his head and lowered his gaze. “I thought I went to the Ascensions. I was wrong. I tried to take you back once I realized my mistake, but I suppose I couldn’t take you back because I wasn’t close enough to Life. My guess is there is a relationship between how close in proximity the Guardian’s Wand is to—”

He cut off when Oliver stopped drawing and held the paper up. “Is this what it looked like?”

Silas nodded, looking impressed. “You have quite a memory, Oliver.”

“It’s what got me through law school and top of my class. So, what Carving is this?”

Silas shrugged. “All I know is it’s the Carving I used to bring you here. There is no record of it, other than what you have written there.”

Oliver recalled the white wand Silas had used to create a time traveling portal. “And what happened to the Guardian’s Wand?” Oliver asked. “Do you still have it?”

“No,” Silas said. “The Justices put it back in the palace.”

Oliver folded his arms, the wheels in his head spinning. He began formulating a plan.