Chapter 19

“I leave with you my wand and my instructions regarding my return. See that only the person specified in my instructions uses it. I will Appear during a time of much turmoil, war, and heartache.”

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

Midnight

Oliver waited for everyone to fall asleep. He looked out the lodge window as Moon Inferior dipped beneath the horizon. Moon Superior was still shining bright, nearly at its zenith. The campus was completely still.

Time to go.

He softly slid open the lodge door and strode across campus, carrying a staff with him and trying his best not to look suspicious. As far as he knew, there really wasn’t anything wrong with walking around the campus or Magen City at midnight. But he would probably have arrested him for what he would do next.

Passing by the campus guards without issue, Oliver walked through the dark streets of Magen City toward the looming palace in the distance. He saw only two people walking in the cobblestoned streets, both in a hurry to get to wherever they were headed.

He heard something behind him and froze, spinning around. He searched the street with wide eyes, looking for what caused the sound, his heart thumping wildly.

A cat appeared, running across the street with a rat in its mouth.

Oliver sighed, turned, and kept walking.

He heard the sound of flutes and drums in the distance, probably from one of the city’s major taverns. Although it was upbeat, the music seemed ancient, boring, and foreign to him. He missed the sound of the Magen City he knew: hover cars honking at each other, planes flying overhead, the occasional sirens blaring in the distance. He missed his own hovercar… and his own music playlists.

The palace up ahead was the strangest part of the city for Oliver to look at. It didn’t exist in 4027. By his best estimate, in its place would eventually be a lengthy line of restaurants and an outdoor mall. Someday this palace would be destroyed. A thousand years from now during the Age of Greed.

He stopped as he approached the palace wall. The gate he, Silas, Ashley, and Ilan had entered to find the Barklian troop was before him. Half a dozen armored soldiers stood guard in front of the gate, and another half dozen were positioned on the walls. After Silas defeated the Barklians two days ago, he doubled the guard around the palace, reducing the risk of another assassination attempt. Which, in turn, only made things more difficult for Oliver to break in.

Before the guards noticed Oliver approaching the gate, he turned, stepping into an alleyway between houses made of stone and wood.

And he waited.

About ten minutes later, he heard footsteps. The sound of Salverian soldiers marching toward the palace. They came to replace the guards standing watch at the gate. Their shift was up.

This was the moment Oliver’d been waiting for.

He held the staff he brought with him out in front of him, its tip pointing upward. It was a birch staff. One of the rare woods. There was only one in the mage’s Lodge, and he’d been eyeing it for a while, planning what he’d do with it. It was lighter than oak, had more knots, and yellower.

He pulled a parchment out of his pocket where he’d scribbled the Carving for birch. He squinted at it, running the routine through his mind. He’d practiced Casting it with extinguished staves, and it was one of the hardest, most complex Carvings he’d ever attempted.

The sound of the soldiers’ footsteps grew louder as Oliver began the routine. He whispered to himself as he twirled the staff slowly. “Two clockwise figure eights,” he said, “thrust to the left, one vertical spin toward me, thrust to the right, three horizontal spins counterclockwise, thrust backwards, and then thrust skyward back to base position.”

He looked up at the tip. Nothing happened. He grew nervous, fearing he’d miss his window of opportunity. “Try again.”

On his third attempt, Oliver watched with amazement as the tip of the staff disappeared. In a blink of an eye, the rest of the staff and his hand also disappeared. He looked down at where he should’ve seen his body, but instead saw only the cobblestones beneath his feet.

The sensation threw him off balance and he staggered a few steps until he found his center, relying on the support of the staff in his right hand. At least, he assumed it was in his hand. He couldn’t see it. But he could still feel the knots of the birch wood with his fingers. He could feel the ground beneath his feet, but without being able to see his legs, he wasn’t quite sure on which cobblestone each foot was planted.

An unanticipated sense of doubt crept into his mind; he wondered if he still existed. His eyes told him he’d wisped away into thin air and was nothing more than a floating conscience. Yet his other senses told him otherwise. It was a strange, constant test of believing without seeing. “The faith conundrum,” he whispered to himself, admiring the irony of his situation.

He tightened his grip on the staff as he saw soldiers marching past the alleyway. He stood a few feet away from them, but not a single soldier looked his way. Waiting for the last soldier to pass, he quietly followed behind as they walked toward the gate, which was being opened for them.

Oliver made sure he had a firm grip on the staff, fearing he would reappear if he dropped it and that he wouldn’t be able to find it on the ground. According to the scroll he’d studied, he’d only stay invisible as long as he touched it. The staff itself would remain invisible until all its magic was burnt out, which he guessed would take about ten minutes or less.

Oliver tried to walk as close to the solider at the rear without making too much sound. His heart pumped so hard he feared his invisible rib cage would crack. He walked through the open gate, expecting someone to say something.

But no one did.

Oliver followed the soldiers until they came near the palace, which cast a long shadow across the courtyard. He crept away from the troop and into the palace’s shadow. With a sigh of relief, he scurried down the courtyard, staying in the shadows.

After a short while, he reached the north end of the courtyard. He noticed the dark red stains on the cobblestones and looked away. This was where he, Silas, Ashley, and Ilan had fought the Barklian soldiers last night.

A chill ran down Oliver’s spine.

The memory haunted him. The fighting. The magic. The soldier he’d stabbed in the abdomen. The blood he’d spilt.

He wanted no part in this war. This wasn’t his time, these weren’t his people. He had no desire to fight alongside them, no less… save them. That was clearly someone else’s job. He’d been dragged through time and forced to fight in a war that he didn’t really care about. He was willing to play along with the Justices’ insane plan… that is, up until last night, when he nearly killed that soldier.

After that, he made up his mind. He was going home. He would escape this prison in the past by breaking into the palace and using the Guardian’s Wand to time travel back to 4027. This was his last chance to escape before Silas dragged him off to battle in Cambium tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He feared he would get killed in battle. Sure, he knew some magic after a week’s worth of training, but he wasn’t anywhere close to battle-ready. Getting the wand and using it tonight… meant survival.

It meant going home.

Tomorrow, if he’d stayed in 4027, would be the day the Justices would present their verdict on the Lumber debate. That was what he cared about. And he hoped he would still get to see it. He wasn’t sure if the Guardian’s Wand would send him back to the same time he left; he could only hope he’d return in time for the verdict.

He wasn’t sure he could even figure out how to use the wand. He’d asked Ilan and Silas as many questions about it as he could without raising any suspicions. He wasn’t entirely sure what it’s Carving was, or if it would work, but he had an idea he wanted to try and figured it was worth the risk.

Oliver took one last revolting look at the blood-stained courtyard and peeked around the corner of the palace at the northern entrance. Two soldiers stood guard, long spears in their hands. He could tell by their Salverian green tunics and decorative armor that they were elite soldiers, probably the Justices personal guards.

Oliver swore under his breath. No way could he fight them and win. And sneaking past them, even when invisible, looked nearly impossible.

He figured it would be this difficult. The Salverians had likely built up precautions for invisible mages. But, he knew none of them would be ready for what he had in mind.

Still in the shadow of the palace, he carefully placed the birch staff on the ground and memorized its location. As soon as he let go, his entire body reappeared. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his black drone.

Its battery was extremely low, but he hoped it had enough juice for one last flight. “Drone,” he said.

The drone came to life. Its screen illuminated his face, flashing a low battery warning. He looked around, making sure no one noticed him. “Fly up.”

“Okay,” a female voice said from its little speaker.

With a buzz, the drone disconnected from the screen and flew fast into the air. He looked at the screen which showed what its little camera was filming. He pressed a few buttons on the screen to get it to fly close enough to the guards in front of the gate to get their attention.

“Hey! What’s that?” a guard shouted.

“An ashen demon!” shouted another. “Shoot it down!”

“Evasive flying,” Oliver whispered into the screen.

The drone buzzed away from the soldiers on its own. “Good idea,” its programmed voice said.

Oliver watched as the two guards left their post, chasing after the drone. He pocketed the drone screen, picked up the invisible staff which made him invisible again, and snuck through the palace doors as quietly as possible.

He moved swiftly down the palace’s narrow hallways, avoiding any sign of guards. The guards he did see were rushing to the palace windows to see what the commotion was outside. He’d been in the palace before when he’d given his speech a few days earlier, and he remembered seeing the Guardian’s Wand while he was there. Third floor.