Chapter 22

“Then, like unto a falling star from the heavens, Life looked over the land and saw that it was good. Wherefore she descended from the Ascensions and took root in its dry soil.”

Origins by Grand Arboler Parley, year 1989

Refugees

Heavy rain drops patted against the windshield with a loud and fast beat. Oliver squinted around the windshield wipers to see the wet road. He wasn't too concerned about the road's condition since he drove a hovercar. Most of the world did these days. He'd passed by a few older folks who still drove "tires."

What was worrisome was the wind. It threatened to push his hovercar into the trees beside the narrow road, but with over a year of experience, Oliver felt competent enough to stay just above the speed limit.

"How long is it to Cambium again?" Ben asked.

Oliver glanced at his younger brother in the passenger seat. Ben had blue eyes, blond hair, and a dimple on his right cheek from years of frequent smiling.

"About four hours," Oliver said. "We're only thirty minutes in. Did you seriously forget to go to the bathroom before leaving again?"

"Nah, I was just wondering if you're willing to endure four hours of...." Ben thumbed his drone and an upbeat song blared through the speakers with a nasal, female voice singing about her latest heartbreak. "Evena!" He bounced his head to the beat.

Oliver rolled his eyes so hard he almost swerved the hover car. "You've got to be flaming me!" Oliver pressed a button on the steering wheel, switching out Evena with some real music. The bass from the new song shook the car. The vocals screamed out passionate cries of grief and vengeance.

Ben glared at Oliver. "Mages, are you trying to break my ear drums?"

Oliver ignored him, enjoying the music. It was so passionate. So raw. He loved it.

Over the treetops, a bolt of lightning flashed in the distance up ahead. The rain continued to rattle hard against the windshield, challenging to drown out the blaring music. They were heading into the center of the storm where the winds and downpours were the strongest.

The road ahead of Oliver seemed to cut through the heart of the forest, like a knife through butter. Millions of trees stood tall on either side, their leaves and branches rustling and bending in the wind. Due to a thousand years of no human interference, the trees grew close together, congesting the forest and making it difficult to see farther than a hundred feet in. The Arbolers strictly protected these forests with tall fences and guards, but the reason why didn't make sense to Oliver. They were just trees.

"So, how often are we going to take this trip to Cambium?" Ben asked curiously.

Oliver turned down the music. "As often as we want, really. Since I'm old enough to drive, we can decide when we want to go see Dad."

"Which will be like every other week?"

Oliver gave him a flat look. "More like once every six months."

Ben twisted his lips to the side. "I'm sure he'd like to see us more than that."

Oliver shrugged. "Maybe. But it's not about how much he wants to see us, it's how much we want to see him. And after everything he did to us and mom... six months is plenty for me."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Every other week would be better for me," Ben said.

Typical. Oliver thought. He's always so forgiving, even towards dad. "When you can drive… be my guest," Oliver said.

The car grew silent again, except for the soft sound of Oliver's turned-down music still coming through the speakers and the raindrops on the car.

"Oliver," Ben said. "Why do you think that-"

He cut off as a piercingly bright light blinded them, followed instantly by an explosion of thunder that vibrated the entire car. When the light faded, Oliver had a glaring afterimage seared in his eyes of a streak of lightning stretching between the gray clouds above and one of the tall trees on the left side of the road. The tree suddenly toppled onto the road, blocking the entire highway.

With a swift intake of air, his heart thumping, Oliver slammed on the hover car's breaks. Unfortunately, the magnetic forces pushing it backward weren’t strong enough to keep it from colliding with the fallen tree.

The boys screamed as glass shattered, metal crunched, and branches cracked. A single long branch pierced through the windshield on the passenger side. The airbag deployed, and Oliver's face slammed into it.

✽✽✽

"Ben!" Oliver shouted, sitting up in his bed. He was drenched in sweat and breathing like he'd been sprinting all night long. His heart thumped quickly against his ribs.

Trying to take slower breaths, he looked around, slowly remembering where he was. In a tent. In the middle of the forest. In an army. Marching to Cambium. Stuck in the year 2000. Posing as the Guardian of Magic.

He groaned at that realization and thought about going back to sleep, but the haunting memory of his brother continued to replay over and over in his mind. He quickly decided that staying awake, even in these conditions, was better than reliving that moment again.

As he grew more aware of his senses, he noticed a horn blowing in the distance. What's that supposed to mean? It was probably what woke him up. He heard shouts, voices, and footsteps running around his tent toward the sound of the horn. Are we under attack?

With that thought, Oliver bolted out of bed, jumped into his mage robes, grabbed a staff and wand, and climbed out of his tent. Dawn was approaching; a glow of sunlight breached the horizon. Moon Inferior was still visible in the western sky. Since he they considered him a person of interest, his tent was more removed and larger than the others. A guard stood at the entrance of the tent, not looking too concerned about the distant horn.

"What's going on?" Oliver asked him.

"Refugees from Cambium," the guard said, pointing to the west.

Coming down the hill, was a multitude of people: civilians, carrying children and pulling wagons. "They fled the city before Lennox was likely to arrive,” the guard explained. “They're on their way to Magen City and this is where our paths crossed."

A few hours later, all the refugees filled the war camp, eating food and resting from their journey.

Oliver walked through the camp quietly, taking in their melancholy expressions. Even the children wore frowns and stared at the ground. He saw a woman spoon feeding soup to a white-bearded old man, probably her father. His frail body quivered as he ate. The journey had been difficult for him, but fortunately, they were only one day away from Magen City. Almost there.

Oliver noticed a young girl ask her mother where “papa” was. The mother frowned at her daughter and changed the subject. The men and teenage boys were missing from this group. They remained in Cambium to defend the city from Lennox’s impending attack.

Ilan passed by Oliver, holding two bowls of soup. He handed them to two teenage girls who expressed their appreciation and then dug into the warm, life-giving food. Ilan didn’t have his customary smile today.

Oliver continued walking, deep in thought. Just two days ago, he learned he might never return home… ever. The Guardian’s Wand didn’t work. He was stuck here, possibly for the rest of his life. Here in this world of magic, wars, and guardians. Here, so much responsibility was placed on his shoulders without his asking. He wished he could go back. Life seemed so much easier there, even as a politician. But he couldn’t go back.

He turned a corner and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a stump. In an instant, Oliver could tell the refugee was rich. Was rich. The man was garbed in fancy clothes, a blue vest with silver buttons, matching leggings, and a yellow scarf. Now they were all stained with mud, dirt, and sweat. The man looked down at his one small bag which contained everything he currently possessed. He was alone; no children or spouse. Completely alone and homeless.

A deep realization settled over Oliver. It hit him hard and caused him to pause and sit down on a stump. It was a strong, unexpected feeling that washed over him and penetrated deep.

Empathy.

He understood how they felt to be yanked out of their homes with very little belongings and to start a new life in a new world. He could see in their eyes that they had little hope that they would return to their city. Just like Oliver’d lost hope to return to his home.

Alone. Empty. Lost.

“Oliver.”

Oliver jumped, snapping out of his reverie, discreetly wiping his eyes.

“A few more people need food,” Ashley said calmly. “Get that family over there some soup.”

Oliver nodded and headed toward the kitchen. He then stopped after feeling something tug on his robes. He turned and looked down at a young boy who was beaming up at him with a toothless grin.

“Hi…” Oliver managed to say.

The boy’s smile widened further. “Are you really the Guardian of Magic?” he asked.

✽✽✽

Silas sat with Lieutenant Firson. He was a soldier with quite a few years on him, which explained why General Fields chose him to lead the refugees away from Cambium. He spoke in between bites of soup.

“We didn’t want to stop until we reached your camp,” Firson said. “Just to be safe in case Lennox broke through Cambium and caught up with us.”

“You really think he could capture Cambium that fast?” Silas asked. “Do you know how big his army is?”

“Yes. The scouts said they saw a Forid army of eight thousand mages.”

Silas frowned. “All mages?”

Firson nodded. “But that’s not what caused us to leave. We heard your news of the Barklian treachery. Just after that, our scouts searched for an assault from Barkley… and they found one.” The gray-haired man shivered as he said it.

“How many?” Silas pressed.

“Twenty thousand.”

Silas cursed. “Twenty thousand!” The Barklian and Forid armies combined made up twenty-eight thousand. Twenty-eight thousand! What was he to do against such a number? Salveria had about half that many soldiers and was spread out around the country. Cambium currently had five thousand, and Silas was bringing another three thousand.

Not enough. Not even close.

Firson eyed Silas carefully. “What do you think, General? Will we survive this war?”

Silas immediately shifted character. He needed to be the confident leader right now. His true feelings and worries had to wait. “Of course we will survive,” Silas said. “You know as do I that numbers don’t win wars. We are more skilled. Our mages are trained in the best school of magery in the world. And we’re motivated by a better cause.”

Firson nodded while frowning. “Yes, General Jarrah, that is true. But… what about the Guardian of Magic? Word has spread. Oliver Kapur is his name, right?”

Silas opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it quickly. What to say?

Was it right to tell others that Oliver was the Guardian and that they should put their trust in him? Silas hadn’t yet. Why should they? He felt a little guilty. A couple of nights ago, the Grand Arboler had chastised him for doubting in Oliver. But even since then, he still couldn’t bring himself to believe.

He admitted there were a few things that impressed him. Oliver had a knack with magery, specifically with the Carvings. He knew Oliver was catching on quicker than most, but, even as a fast learner, he wasn’t anywhere near the level of skill that the Guardian of Magic should have.

And Oliver was still… Oliver. His character was not that of a Guardian. He was too self-centered.

But what to say to Lieutenant Firson? Silas thought. He knew the people needed hope. They needed a Guardian. It would boost their morale more than anything. Silas could go on saying Oliver was the Guardian, but what if Oliver didn’t meet their expectations? It could make things worse than they currently were. The people would—

“Is that him there?” Firson asked.

Silas turned in his seat, following the Lieutenant’s gaze.

“It is…. It must be.” Firson spoke in a hushed, reverent voice. “Oh Life, I never thought I would live to see this day.”

What Silas saw both made his nostrils flare. A small crowd of soldiers and refugees had formed around an individual, all of them looking curious and hopeful. They seemed to be asking questions and listening intently to whoever it was.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant,” Silas said in dismissal. He stood up and approached the ever-growing circle of people. As he feared, Oliver was at the center, speaking to the onlookers.

“I have come from a different world,” Oliver said. “I have seen your day and I know the oppositions you face in this war.” He paused, looking at a few people in the eyes. “And I will guide you to victory.”

A few excited whispers spread across the crowd.

Silas paled. What is he doing? he thought. Silas started pushing his way through the crowd, about to put a halt to all of this, but Oliver’s next words gave him pause.

“I know what most of you are thinking,” Oliver said. “How could I be the Guardian of Magic? I know I don’t look like the mighty mage who will save you from the likes of Lennox Elmson. I know I’m much shorter than most of the statues of me in Magen City.” He paused to allow laughter, but none came. “But I assure you, stature doesn’t mean everything.”

“How will you stop Lennox?” A woman asked. A boy with missing teeth held her hand. Her question seemed more pleading than skeptical. “How can you stop the Forids and the Barklians combined? Can even the Guardian manage that?”

Oliver looked at her for a while, and then shook his head and said, “No.” He turned to the crowd. “Even I cannot win this war alone.”

“How can we help?” A mage asked.

“Spread the word of my Arrival. Bring hope to all the Salverians. Where you lack in your numbers you will make up with your faith. Your courage aggregated with my presence will put an end to Lennox’s might.”

“Are you certain we will win?” A man shouted from the back of the crowd.

Oliver showed complete confidence in his eyes. “Yes. I know it.”

Silas was frozen in place. It was too late for him to stop this. If he jumped in now it would confuse and upset the people.

And yet… Silas struggled to admit it… but he was also impressed. He knew Oliver was putting on a persona, though this wasn’t as flamboyant as his presentation at Magen City. Maybe this could work, Silas thought.

✽✽✽

Oliver scanned the crowd surrounding him. This had escalated faster than he’d expected, but he felt confident about it. A simple, positive answer to a child had turned into a motivational war speech worthy of any action movie. Once he said he was the Guardian, there was no changing it, no going back. All he could do was go forward from here on out. It might be false… but… he could see the hope in people’s eyes.

“Will Cambium fall?” Another woman asked.

Oliver recalled his own time. He didn’t remember what history taught about it, but he knew in 4027 the city was still there. “Cambium will stand,” Oliver said. “Soon you will all be able to return to your homes.”

He heard several audible sighs in the crowd.

“Can you prove to us that yer the Guardian?”

The entire crowd held its breath, looking back at the man who asked the pretentious question. Oliver spotted the man and guessed he was a captain due to his eloquent, green armor. He had a distinctive hooked nose. These people weren’t in Magen City when Oliver first presented himself. This was their first time seeing him, so he needed to impress them.

And unfortunately, Oliver hesitated to answer, his pulse racing. How do I prove I’m the Guardian? He didn’t have the magical skills as the Guardian should. He didn’t have the Guardian’s Staff or the Guardian’s Wand. He didn’t look like any of the Guardian’s statues. All he had was his knowledge of the future, but it was too general to prove anything. The only thing he knew about their specific future was that the Guardian was supposed to come and save the day.

The captain grew agitated. “How are we to know yer actually the Guardian like you say you are?” he asked. “Where is yer legendary staff? You could be a fake! A false guardian just like ashen Lennox himself!”

“Yeah!” a few men shouted. A heated chatter grew among the crowd like wildfire in a dry forest.

Oliver fumbled to answer. In court, he usually was a quick thinker on his feet, but that was with hours of preparation beforehand. Could he talk his way out of this one? The look in their eyes told him they wouldn’t treat kindly to fake guardians.

“He is the Guardian of Magic!” a voiced boomed over the ruckus.

The people quieted down gradually, noticing Silas as he walked to the center of the circle and stood by Oliver.

“I know he is the Guardian,” Silas said, “because I am the general who used the Guardian’s Wand to bring him here.” The crowd was dead silent, not just because of Silas’ words, but because of who he was: their commanding officer. Oliver sighed in relief, grateful Silas decided to play along.

“I also know he is the Guardian.” It was Ashley. She joined them in the center of the circle. “He foretold Barkley’s betrayal. We were able to attack the Barklians within Magen City before they made their move. If it weren’t for him, they would’ve assassinated the Justices.”

Several whispers worked their way down the rows of people. By now the entire camp, thousands of refugees, soldiers, mages, and servants, had made its way to the impromptu gathering.

“It’s true,” Silas said. “He does not have to have the Staff of Life to prove he’s the Guardian. His knowledge of the future and his skills in magery will help us overcome our enemies.”

Oliver watched Silas carefully as he spoke, curious to discern any deceit in his demeanor. He found none. The general looked confident and spoke as if he truly believed his own words. He grew worried, however, when Silas said things like “defeat all our enemies.”

“Everyone, about your business!” Silas commanded. “We march in three hours!” The army was quick to obey, breaking out of the crowd to prepare for the journey. The hook-nosed captain didn’t look too convinced. The refugees were much slower, chatting excitedly about the good news.

“And I…” Silas turned toward Oliver, “need to speak with the Guardian privately.”