“I finished the windows this morning,” said Bloom, indicating to the newly set diamond-shaped windowpanes winking before them in the kitchen window, “so today, let us make a writing desk and a chair for the study.”
Wendell nodded, and stuffed a strawberry into his mouth. There was a knock on the door. Both of the wizards looked at one another. Wendell ran to the door and tore it open.
“Good morning!” said Ausra, standing outside in a stunning scarlet dress. “I hope I am not too early,” she said.
“Ausra!” cried Wendell, picking her up and whirling her around in his arms. “You are never—never—never too early, or too late! One as lovely as you can only ever be flawlessly on time, all the time, every time!”
Ausra laughed and kissed him on the cheek. Bloom smiled to himself as the young couple waltzed into the kitchen.
“Welcome Ausra,” said Bloom, handing her a plate of pancakes with cream and strawberry jam on top.
“Thank you Master Dellwen,” she winked, accepting the breakfast plate and joining Wendell at the table.
The three of them ate breakfast and then got to work on the desk. They worked happily together, joking and bantering without a care in the world, and Bloom experienced these short happy hours from a new perspective. When they were finished they set the writing desk and its matching chair into the office. Wendell and Ausra went to rest in the library and look through the many books.
Bloom came into the library just as Wendell was reading the passage about crolackrolite out loud. It was the first time that the boy would understand his curse, and Bloom struggled to find some comforting words for his younger self.
Ausra stood, “I’m sorry, Wendell,” she said.
Wendell scanned over the passage a second time. “It cannot be,” he whispered.
“That is a long forgotten spell,” said Bloom in a hollow sounding voice. He entered the library and reached up to adjust his eye patch. With a shock he realized he had almost put it on the wrong side of his face! “It is a book of ancient war spells,” he said leaning heavily on the doorframe. “The Amethyst era was a time of much violence and turmoil.”
“This is horrible!” cried Wendell, casting the book aside. “Who would create such a terrible spell?”
Bloom knelt to recover the book and after gently brushing it off, he replaced it on the shelf. He knew he could not have saved Amelliea from the bite of the werewolf without the aid of that book.
“I wish that book had been burned!” said Wendell.
“Come now, in time you may need to reference this book if not to find a protective spell, or potion, then at least to better understand one of the many incantations you already know.”
“I will never touch it again,” vowed Wendell. He was shaken by what he had read.
Ausra came to sit beside Wendell. She could see that the young man was beside himself. “Walk me home?” asked Ausra, hoping to get some time alone with Wendell so they could talk about all they had learned. Wendell nodded and the two of them walked to the door.
Bloom was troubled. He watched them leave and after they closed the door he began to pace the living room. He knew that Wendell would return shaken from his conversation with Ausra’s father. He also remembered that this was the night Master Dellwen had left. Why the man had chosen to leave on this exact night remained a mystery. Perhaps he felt his work was done, or he did not wish to impose his company on his young friends. It was not clear to Bloom, and he found that he wanted to stay longer so he could be there for his younger self on this difficult night, and so he could see Ausra one last time. Wringing his hands he tried hard to figure out what to do. Even though he was unsure what action he should take, Bloom packed his few belongings and made sure the cottage was fully finished to serve as Wendell and Ausra’s home.
As Bloom tidied the library, he found a small leather book that he recognized to be the journal of his former teacher, Master Loriander. Bloom had read the journal before, but never all the way through since it remained difficult for him to cope with the way his apprenticeship had ended. Bloom took the book from the shelf and laid it open on the new writing desk. The book had many passages. The dates of the events were marked in the upper right hand corner of each page. Bloom turned the crackling pages until he came unexpectedly upon a date that overlapped with his own life. Here was a passage about his master discovering Wendell as a talented young boy on the street. Bloom read the journal entry with interest and found that the next passage was also about him. Bloom sat down in the chair and began to read the journal. He wondered why he had never managed to read it before. He had always thought it was filled with irrelevant notes and ideas for the creation of future spells, or perhaps he had assumed this to protect himself from feeling the pain of betraying is kind master. Finally, he turned to the last page and found a short passage titled The Last and Final Prophesy. The paragraph read:
“The seventy-fourth son bourn of the Sapphire Dynasty shall be named Salvador the hero. He will set out on a noble quest to aid his world and earn his glory. The chosen one shall be his calling. It is his destiny to affect the dominance. His actions will forage an abundant era that will surpass all those of history. As the warren flies true and the seer foretells, so the chosen one’s hand has a part to play.”
Bloom remembered the day his master had told him of the final prophesy. It had happened long ago yet the memory of that day had cut itself deep into Bloom’s mind. He would have to wait for the chosen one, or go through the windore and hope to end up further ahead in the future, closer to the day Salvador would set out on his noble quest. Bloom wanted nothing more than to aid the young warrior in his vital mission to the Pillar of Dominance. He knew that this time, he would let nothing go wrong, even if he had to use every last spell that he knew of to get the blue sapphire safely to the pillar, since that stone had once been used to set the most benevolent and peaceful era in recorded history. Bloom closed the journal and replaced it on the shelf.
The finished cottage was immaculate. Looking at the white stucco walls Bloom realized that the next time he saw the cottage it would be older and that he was never to see it bran new again after this night. He waved his hand in a dismissive kind of way, deciding that he preferred Amelliea’s childhood doodles decorating the walls anyway.
The wizard waited late into the night for Wendell’s return. At long last, the boy came into the cottage looking highly agitated.
“What happened?” asked Bloom.
“I met her parents,” said Wendell sinking down into a chair. He looked pale.
“And?” prompted the old Wizard.
“They were furious!” said Wendell. “Her father swore that no wizard shall court his daughter while he still lives! He said that Ausra was never to see me again, and that I was lucky to still be breathing!”
“He knew you were a wizard?”
“He recognized me from before!” explained Wendell. “There is word of a search party in the coming days. A mob of villagers wishes me dead! If Ausra is found with me, she will perish also!”
Bloom did not remember saying those words as a young man. “How do you know there will be a search party?” asked Bloom.
“The baker’s son warned Ausra this morning! It seems I’m not the only one in love with her!”
Bloom found himself panicking. This was not supposed to happen! The future was changing! Bloom realized that he had to leave at once before anything else was altered. “You must go to her father and ask for her hand in marriage,” said Bloom.
“How can I face him?” asked Wendell. “He hates me more than anyone! Besides, Ausra is better off without me!”
“Listen to me Wendell,” said Bloom. “You are at a crossroads. Tomorrow your own actions will decide your fate.”
“What if it goes badly?” asked Wendell.
“It will be worth it,” answered Bloom
“How do you know how it will go?” demanded Wendell. “How do you know everything?”
“
You will know everything too when you are older,” said Bloom.
“I am tired of your cryptic answers. Can’t you tell me something straight for once?”
“No, I cannot,” answered Bloom, walking into his room without closing the door. Wendell raked his fingers through his hair and followed his older self. Bloom was busy buckling up the straps of his rucksack on his bed. His staff was leaning against the bedpost nearby.
“What are you doing?” asked Wendell.
“It is time for me to go,” said Bloom.
“Go?” Wendell asked in surprise, “Where?”
“Away,” said Bloom, shouldering the pack of provisions. He did not know where he would go. Perhaps he would attempt to go through the windore one last time. Maybe he would find himself in the future once more. One thing was for certain, he could not risk changing anything else on this night.
“When will you be back?” asked Wendell.
Bloom turned to look at his younger self. “I will not be coming back,” he said softly.
“What?” cried Wendell. “No!”
Bloom walked to the door.
“Please—” begged Wendell, feebly trying to stop him and helplessly beginning to cry, “Stay! Master Dellwen, you are my only friend! I need you so much! I will be lost without you!”
His own eyes brimming with tears, the older wizard paused by the door and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You are no longer alone, you have Ausra now. I cannot explain why, but I simply must go! In time you will understand.” He stepped out onto the porch.
“Don’t go!” cried Wendell. “Please—”
“You can keep the cottage,” said Bloom.
“You’re giving it to me?” asked Wendell in shock.
Bloom nodded, “It’s yours.”
“Why can’t we live here together? Why are you leaving me?”
“I simply must go,” said Bloom and with these words he set off into the night. Wendell followed him like a stray dog. “Please don’t leave!” Wendell cried, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. “I’m not ready! I want you to stay! I don’t understand!”
“Say farewell to Ausra on my behalf,” said Bloom, his heart breaking for the young man. He could not believe he had to do this to himself. Yet he simply could not stay another hour longer, and could only hope he had not changed Wendell’s future too much.
Wendell nodded sadly through the tears. “When will I see you again?” he asked.
“That is a difficult question to answer,” said Bloom, sincerely unable to come up with a better reply. “You are a good person, Wendell, and a great wizard. It has been a pleasure getting to know you.”
“I’m not who you think I am—” began Wendell.
Bloom stopped him with a gesture. “There is no need to explain,” he said.
“But I’m the—” insisted Wendell.
“I know who you are,” said Bloom.
“YOU DO?” said Wendell in astonishment.
“Stay good Wendell, never become an evil wizard,” said Bloom, for this was the only thing he truly wanted for himself. With those final words he turned away from the cottage. Bloom could hear the boy crying behind him, and he knew exactly how the young man felt. His own face wet with tears, Bloom moved on into the darkness without turning around. He had broken his own heart not once, but twice in one night and it ached with the venomous sting of betrayal.
Chapter 55
The Third Visit
Bloom wandered through the village, mentally saying goodbye to the dark deserted streets. He knew he would never see his hometown again as it was on this night. The wizard could easily imagine the familiar faces and names of the many villagers he had known as a young man. He would not see them again, and perhaps never even learn how their lives had turned out. Bloom thought of all he could say to these people. He could tell them of their great-grandchildren, and who those children would become. He wanted to tell them to not worry about cleaning the dust from their windows since it would only settle again the following morning, and the morning after that. Yet the thing Bloom wished he could tell them most was that there was hope for a better future and this, coincidently was the only thing he could not promise them.
Bloom desperately wished he had a friend to turn to for counsel and his thoughts turned to the Earth girl, Nella. He adjusted his course in the direction of the windore in the Wanderers Desert. Perhaps she could help him find his daughter. With each step his resolution to go through the windore grew firmer, and he felt his feelings of dread transform into a brave desire to do the right thing. He walked all through the night, and as a pink sliver of the morning sun peeked over the horizon, he finally reached the portal.
The invisible vortex pulled at his clothes, as if luring him forward. Without thinking it over any longer, Bloom lunged into the light tunnel. As he sped forward he thought of Earth and hoped he would manage to find the clairvoyant Nella as he had before.
He landed in an alleyway between two stone buildings. It seemed the windore of Earth had relocated once again. His nerves still on edge from the trip, Bloom took a deep breath of the cold air to calm himself. It was wintertime and the snow was packed underfoot in an uneven sheet of ice. Bloom wished he had worn warmer clothes. He could hear music playing softly from the street ahead, and having heard nothing like it before, he grew curious and moved towards the source of the sound. Bloom came out onto a large street filled with shops. Machines drove by on the street, flashing white lights at the front, and red ones at the rear. It was evening time, and the trees and buildings were decorated with multi-colored twinkling lights. There were wreaths on the doors, and people hurried by holding colorful bags and packages tied with bows.
Bloom looked inside one of the windows only to find Nella standing beside a display of sparkling ornaments. She was slightly older than before, and she had on a light blue knitted hat and a fluffy winter jacket. Nella held a red and green sphere by a string and was admiring at a tiny row of pine trees painted on the glass. The object spun slowly around as the girl held it. Nella looked up unexpectedly, noticing the wizard through the window. She smiled and rushed outside.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” asked the stern voice of a woman who was apparently guarding the door. “If you leave now you don’t get to choose an ornament.”
“I’m perfectly fine with that,” said Nella tartly.
“We leave for the asylum in fifteen minuets,” said the woman.
“I just want to breathe the air for a moment,” said the girl, “I promise to be back in time.”
The woman stared at Nella without a trace of compassion. Nella put her hands in her pockets to protect them from the cold and moved down the street. Upon passing the wizard she gestured with her chin for Bloom to follow her. They walked a short distance away and came to stand beside a tall, decorated tree just out of the angry woman’s line of sight. Before them, children and young couples skated around on a big sheet of smooth ice. The children laughed and sped passed each other, gliding forward on metal blades affixed to the soles of their leather boots. It began to snow lightly. When Nella was certain that she was not being followed or watched, she smiled at the wizard and said,” Hello again.”
“Who was that awful woman?” he asked.
“She’s no one significant,” answered Nella.
“Are you alright?” asked Bloom, seeing how thin and pale the girl had become. “Do you need help?”
“They are trying to help me,” she answered, “but my illness is only getting worse.”
“Illness?” asked Bloom.
“Yes, I am unwell,” she explained. “Something is wrong with me up here.” She tapped her temple.
“What are you saying?” asked Bloom.
“I mean, it is likely that you are not here at all and I am really just standing here talking to myself,” she said.
“But I am here,” said Bloom.
“That’s what they told me you’d say.”
�
��Why are you talking with me if I am a figment of your imagination?” asked Bloom.
“Because I like talking to you,” she answered.
“What if there is nothing wrong with you, but there is something wrong with all of them?”
“Logically that is impossible,” said Nella with a weak smile.
“The Earth healers seem hostile,” said Bloom, “and I don’t think they know how to help you.”
“They are doing their best.”
“Stay strong Nella,” said Bloom. “You can always trust yourself.”
“Can I?” she asked.
It was hard for Bloom to see Nella like this. Her blue eyes had an aura of sadness that had never been there before. “Are you an orphan?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, surprised by the question.
“Nella, this is my last visit,” said Bloom.
“I know,” she answered.
“Come with me?” he offered. “There is a windore nearby, you would be safe on Windiffera. I would personally make certain of that.”
“I have to stay here,” she said.
“Why?” asked Bloom.
“I need to put the delusions to rest and find a way to be normal.”
“Why would you want to be normal?”
“I just want to have a life is all.”
Bloom saw there was no convincing her. He guessed that whatever she had been through since he had seen her last was far worse than she let on. “You have a gift, not a curse,” he said.
“It doesn’t feel like a gift,” she answered.
“If they are delusions, then why are your predictions accurate?” he asked.
Nella was silent.
“You need training, not therapy.”
“Did you find your daughter?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Not yet,” answered Bloom. “Can you help me?”
Her eyes stared through him for a moment as if viewing a distant place. “She is alive,” said Nella. “And time moves slowly where she is, as it does on Earth.”
They heard footsteps from around the corner.
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 37
