Chapter 40

“Why did the Guardian not appear on the year 4000? We're not entirely sure. I have many theories, but nothing concrete. But I have a firm belief he will Appear soon. Very soon.”

Faith in the Guardian by Grand Arboler Norman Thicket, year 4021

Appearance

Silas wondered what could strike that much fear into the Forid King. He tried to twist his head to see what he was looking at, but the pain was unbearable; his jaw throbbed, and his right eye had already swollen shut. Yet, he still managed a profound gasp when he saw a man in Salverian green mage robes fly over the wall and then land with a powerful thud between him and Lennox. What really caught Silas’ attention—and made him wonder if he were delirious—was the beautiful, white staff in the mage’s right hand. Was that the—?

The man looked down at him.

“Oliver?” Silas asked.

“And I thought you were invincible,” Oliver said with a smirk as he twirled his white staff in what Silas immediately recognized as the maple Carving. “Why didn’t you ever go this easy on me when sparring?” He touched Silas with the tip of the white staff and the familiar cold-to-hot sensation washed over him, taking all of his pain and fatigue with it.

Silas took Oliver’s hand and climbed to his feet, completely rejuvenated. He quickly took in his surroundings and noticed the mages on both sides of the wall were watching. All of their eyes fixated on Oliver and his brilliant staff. He eyed it himself. “Where did you get that?” he asked.

Oliver gave a smirk—that smirk that always annoyed the flames out of Silas. “Where do you think?”

“How?” This question came, not from Silas, but from Lennox. The king stood a ways down the wall walk, his captains and mages behind him. He looked perplexed and stunned, his eyes wide. “Charol should have killed you? How can you—? This doesn’t make any sense…. I am the Guardian Reborn!”

“Sorry bud,” Oliver said casually. “No such thing. And your queen. Well… I killed her.” Technically I will kill her someday, he thought. But no need to explain that to him.

His face red with anger, Lennox gave his dual-oriented staff a vertical spin over the side of the wall, showing off its incredible length. “Let’s put it to the test then! See who the true Guardian is! Me or you!”

Suddenly, his extensions disappeared, the magic extinguished.

Oliver laughed. “Yeah, sounds like fun.” He twirled his staff in the ebony Carving. “But I’ve got a Barklian invasion to stop at the southern gate, so can we have a rain check?” He Cast ebony and rose into the air.

Silas and Lennox stared up at him, dumbfounded.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Oliver said. “I’ll be right back.”

He cast wind that pushed him toward the gate to the south. Every eye watched him as he flew high over the burning palisades, his white staff standing out amidst the evening sky.

After a long moment, Silas and Lennox looked back at each other. “Did he just… postpone our duel?” Lennox asked.

Silas smirked and shrugged.

“I—? How—?” The king looked furious, insulted. He turned back to his lieutenant mages. “Toss me an ebony-willow staff! And another double-elm staff! I will not allow this coward—this fake—to mock me so!” They tossed him two staves and Lennox began Carving with one hand, his other hand holding his dual-oriented staff.

“He can’t be a fake,” Silas said, speaking to himself just as much as to Lennox, a knot in his chest. “At least that staff can’t be. He cast ebony twice. The only staff rumored to be able to Cast the same wood twice is the—”

“My staff casts the same wood twice!”

“No, you have two elm staves joined together in a complicated way that makes it look like one. It’s remarkable, but still two staves.”

“This is the Staff of Life!” The king floated into the air, looking furious and raising his staff, extensions over his head. “Life taught me how to make it! I am the Guardian of Magic! And I will prove it!” With his left hand, he Cast his ebony-willow staff’s magic and flew southward toward the gate, towing his dual-oriented staff with him.

Silas watched him fly away. He also saw Oliver, in the distance, about to arrive at the gate, where it looked like the Barklians had broken through with the help of some Forid mages.

Could it be? Silas thought. Was I wrong to doubt him?

He looked up and saw the Forid mages on the wall walk. They watched their king fly off, and then slowly brought their attention back to Silas and the Salverians behind him. They gripped their staves, about to attack, but then paused. The Salverians behind Silas had a similar reaction, waiting for the Forids to attack, but they never did. Silas noticed the fighting on the city streets never restarted either; white-robed and green-robed mages stared each other down, but neither attacked. Outside the walls, no more mages attempted to fly over the wall, instead they started heading toward the gate.

“You want to know, don’t you?” Silas asked. “Want to know if you’ve been following the right man all along?”

The Forid lieutenants held their defensive poses but didn’t answer.

“Well I want to know, too.”

Silas Cast ebony and willow and flew in the same direction.

✽✽✽

Oliver frowned as he flew toward the southern gate. So many people lay dead or dying in pools of blood on both sides. The Barklian soldiers flooded into the city. The Forids flew above them, fighting mages in the air.

He spotted Ashley. She was next to a burning wagon, kneeling over a young, scorched corpse. Oliver clenched his teeth.

You can’t save everyone, his future self had said.

“But I’ll save who I can,” Oliver muttered.

He carefully descended until he floated above the line of soldiers where both sides clashed in the middle. He nearly lost his balance as an arrow whizzed by his head, but eventually regained it, still not used to flying. Ebony was the wood he’d practiced with the least. And typically, Casting it with a staff would only allow for short flights, but the Staff of Life could keep him flying indefinitely.

At least until he turned it off.

Oliver twirled it in the willow Carving. The wind continued to blow as he quickly spun the staff, which brought him to a standstill in the air. The Carving complete, the wind stopped shooting out the staff’s tip, allowing Oliver to float motionlessly above the soldiers’ heads, ebony’s weightlessness still in effect.

Very few noticed him above their heads since there were other green-robed mages flying around the battle, Casting flames and lightning at each other.

I don’t need to slaughter the enemy, he thought. I just need to convince them. He twirled his white staff, performing whatever Carvings came to mind. He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen—Casting that many woods at once—but he hoped it would catch their attention.

It did.

First, a brilliant beam of white light appeared above the staff’s tip. Oak was a common magic, but rarely used in battle because it drew attention, which was his goal. As he continued to twirl his staff, it looked like Oliver had circles of light surrounding him in the dark of the night.

He Cast maple and felt a surge of strength and energy wash over him, even though he wasn’t touching the staff’s tip. Remarkable!

Ash came next. After returning to Casting position, a small flame appeared at the white staff’s tip. Oliver continued to twirl it, performing vertical spins far to the side and horizontal spins high above to avoid getting singed.

He finished the yew Carving and Cast water. It immediately converted into steam when it came in contact with the fire at the tip. The searing sound of evaporating water wound around Oliver’s ears as he continued to twirl the Staff of Life. The air around him grew cool and moist.

The fighting below began to subside. Soldiers, archers, and mages looked up at Oliver with confused looks.

Willow. A gust of wind shot out of the staff’s tip, blowing the steam outward, and pushing Oliver through the air. He quickly twirled his staff in a constant vertical spin in front of him. The motion locked him in place midair and it blew vapor int the air around him. A small cloud began to form above the southern end of Magen City.

Mahogany. Oliver messed the Carving up twice but got it right the third try. He Cast electricity into the cloud around him. Several hot currents of electricity webbed through the vapor in every direction. They were far more powerful than lightning Cast from typical mahogany staves. The constant thread of flashes illuminated the night sky, like an isolated electric storm. A few bolts struck the ground, with crashes of earsplitting thunder causing the crowd below to shutter.

The cloud continued to grow. As it approached the ground below, Forids, Barklians, and Salverians backed away, avoiding its dangerous electricity.

Oliver’s magical storm separated the armies. All fighting ceased.

Mages on ebony-willow logs descended to the cobble-stoned street and let their logs fly off while they remained on the ground, staring into the storm cloud with awe.

“That should do,” Oliver muttered. He performed the Carvings again, one at a time, to stop Casting their magic. After canceling mahogany, ash, and yew, he let his staff Cast wind to blow the vapor out of the air, and then canceled it as well. He did not cancel ebony, maple, or oak. He let oak’s light stay atop the staff, so he could keep their attention as he floated above them.

They could see him clearly now. Oliver looked down at them, letting the silence sink in. They were stunned by his extraordinary display. Ashley panted heavily as she stared along with the rest, looking confused.

A speech… Oliver thought. To persuade and convert. Something I’ve been doing long before becoming the Guardian.

“This war must stop!” Oliver shouted, addressing the Barklians and Forids below him. His voice echoed off Magen City’s walls. “You fight for your belief in the Guardian! That’s commendable! But you have been deceived! Lennox Elmson is not the Guardian of Magic!”

“He lies!”

A thousand heads turned to the top of the southern gate, where the Forid king stood with a staff in hand.

“Hey!” Oliver said. “I told you stay there! I was gonna come right back!”

“You will pay dearly for your insolence! Let us settle this once and for all!” Lennox spun his staff over the side of wall and Cast two elm extensions out both ends, making it the length of a tree. “I will prove to everyone that you are a coward and a fake!”

A thousand heads turned back to Oliver, very expectantly, eager for the battle of the ages to begin. Oliver took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his staff. Even with the Staff of Life, he wasn’t sure if he could beat Lennox.

A mass of Forids and more Salverians rushed their way over from the western gate—not to fight—but to watch, Silas at their lead.

The siege was already won. The war was essentially over. Lennox had won. But the people needed proof. They needed to know. All three nations would follow the true Guardian of Magic, as long as he could definitively prove to them all that he truly was the one and only Guardian.

Oliver Cast willow. He directed its wind to push him toward the southern gate. A stone wall walk ran flat over the wooden gate. A stone cropping made a railing on the outer edge of the wall, but the inner edge had no railing whatsoever. It was a deadly drop down. Lennox stood atop the left side of the gate, and Oliver landed on the right. He canceled ebony, willow, oak, and then faced Lennox.

Without the walls, Oliver could see thousands of Barklians and hundreds of Forids watching from below, curious. They’d seen his magical display and needed more.

Everyone could see. Everyone was watching.

My future self better be right about this, Oliver thought. I’m putting a lot of faith in him… in me.

Lennox glared, his dual-oriented staff with long extensions in his right hand. Oliver lowered into a fighting stance, two hands on the white Staff of Life.

“Let’s prove it then,” Oliver said.