The Wizard of Time Trilogy (A Fantasy Time Travel Series)

by G. L. Breedon

  “Help me!” Gabriel shouted as he came to the shallow edge of the river. Harold struggled to reach them. Gabriel didn’t even wait to get Tom all the way to the riverbank before turning him over, wrapping his arms around Tom’s middle, and pulling repeatedly to empty the water from his stomach and lungs. Swinging Tom onto his back, Gabriel continued to push on his stomach to clear the water from his airway. Tom spit in Gabriel’s face, his eyes fluttering open. Harold had reached them by then.

  “Gabe,” Tom said.

  “You’re okay now,” Gabriel said.

  “You saved me,” Tom said with a weak laugh. “Just like Aquaman.”

  “There are still kids down there,” Harold said, looking back at the river. The shimmering yellow form of the bus was easily visible beneath the gently flowing water.

  “Stay here with Tom,” Gabriel said as he looked into Harold’s eyes. Harold could swim well enough to reach the shore once, but he would never make it twice.

  “You can’t go back down there!” Harold said, fear making his voice jump an octave.

  “I’ll be fine,” Gabriel said, shrugging out of his jacket and kicking off his shoes. “My parents paid a lot of money so I’d be able to do stupid things like swim back down to sunken buses.” He doubted that was what his mother had been thinking when she had insisted on the swimming classes.

  He gave Tom a quick wave and then jumped back into the water, his legs kicking hard, his oddly long arms making for smooth, strong strokes that brought him to the middle of the river in hardly any time at all. His fellow students screamed, cried, shouted, and tried to swim for the shore. Gabriel looked down at the bus. He didn’t see any motion, but he could see what looked like shadowy shapes that might be people. He sucked air in fast, let it out, and sucked it in again, filling his lungs. Then he dived.

  He fought his body’s natural inclination to float as he dove, his arms striking through the water in unison. It took a few seconds to reach the bottom of the river and the bus. A few seconds that allowed him to think. What the hell am I doing? He’d only learned to swim six months ago. Why was he the only one going back down? He’d been on the shore. The dream hadn’t come true. Why tempt fate? And then he reached the bus and saw the two faces floating near the rear windows. That was why. Because you couldn’t just let people die when you might be able to do something about it.

  He edged around the emergency door and swam into the bus. There were more bodies than the two he had seen. They might be dead. Or maybe not. Five in all, he could see. He grabbed the one closest to the door. Emily. He thought she had gotten out. The fire extinguisher must have hit her when the window broke. Her open eyes stared right through him. He didn’t look back for long. He grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the door, pushing her through and giving her a shove toward the surface. She moved upward. Not as fast as he had wanted. He hoped it was fast enough. He hoped someone above would get to her in time.

  Looking back, he knew he couldn’t save them all. Not all four that remained. He just couldn’t hold his breath long enough. It wasn’t possible. He could come back down. They might make it if he could come back down fast enough. He swam back into the bus and grabbed the arm of the next person he came to. Perfect, he thought. Just who he’d always imagined saving. Gabriel grimaced and pulled Eddie to the emergency door, pushing him through and giving him a shove toward the surface as he had with Emily.

  Just enough, he thought. Just enough air. One more and I’ll go back up. Just one more, he thought as he twisted around and swam back into the capsized bus once more. The next unconscious person he came to was Larry, the sickly boy who was always sneezing.

  Larry’s arm was wedged between the seat and the wall of the bus. Gabriel pulled on Larry’s arm, but it was no good. Gabriel tried to pull at the seat. To bend it back just a little. Nothing. He pulled the seat with one hand and Larry’s arm with the other. Harder. Harder. His lungs stung again. His vision was getting blurry. But he kept pulling. Then Larry’s arm slipped free. Gabriel tugged at Larry and pulled him toward the emergency door. Then the world shifted.

  The weight of the bus settling on the soft river bottom sent it tumbling again, lurching sideways once more. Gabriel spun with the bus as Larry’s unconscious body fell on him, a shoulder pushing down into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs in a burst.

  Gabriel pushed and pulled at Larry’s unconscious form, but it was no good. Larry was slight, hardly weighing a thing, but the angle of the seats kept him wedged against Gabriel.

  He fought. He fought to move Larry’s body. He fought to slide out from under him. He fought to hold what little air was left in his lungs. He fought to keep his vision straight. He fought the temptation to open his mouth. He fought as hard as he had ever fought for anything, but he couldn’t stop himself. His body betrayed his will. His mouth slipped open and the bubbles of air flooded out. He tried to stop it. But it didn’t last long. He pushed against Larry’s body again. He knew it was a body now. Larry was dead. There was no saving him. No saving the others in the bus. No saving himself.

  He held it as long as he could. Held the moment between breaths as long as he could. He knew how it would end. Just as it had ended in the dream. Maybe that was why he had come back down. Not to try to be a hero. Not because his conscience told him he should, but because of the dream. Because he knew the dream would be fulfilled no matter what he did.

  He held on, hoping that someone would come down after him. One of the other students. Maybe a driver of a passing car. Someone. He held that un-breath and held it and held it and then before he knew it his mouth was open and he was sucking water into his lungs against his will. He willed his mouth to close, his lungs to expel the water, the spasms of his body to stop. He willed his eyes to stay open, his mind to stay clear, his vision to remain. He willed the blackness to stop. He willed his heart to start beating again. He willed his mind to remain conscious. He willed himself to remember his mother’s face and the kiss she had given him. He willed himself to remember his father’s hug and his smile. He willed himself to remember who he was. He willed himself to remember his name. He willed himself to live.

  And then Gabriel Salvador died.

  Chapter 2: Rebirth

  Light.

  Sounds.

  Voices.

  Was this death? Could you see lights and hear voices when you were dead? Was this the light at the end of a tunnel? No. The light seemed to come from everywhere. Could he see light without eyes? Did he still have eyes? Were his eyes open? Could he blink? The light winked out and back. He could blink. Could you blink when you were dead?

  “He’s coming around.” A female voice. Soft and melodious.

  “I hate this part.” A male voice. Deep and resonant.

  “Where?” That voice he recognized. That was Gabriel Salvador’s voice. His voice. Could he have a voice if he were dead?

  “You’re safe,” the female voice said. The room slowly came into focus and the lights did not seem as bright anymore. He lifted his head to the light and saw a large window. In front of the window stood a man and a woman. The man stood well over six feet tall, with a muscular build, deep black skin, and a wide, angular face with a hint of grey in his close-cut hair. He wore a necklace of shells around his neck. The woman was much smaller and much thinner, with olive-brown skin, piercing near-black eyes and a narrow face framed by a mane of deep gray hair. She wore a necklace with a small bluish teardrop-shaped glass pendant. Both wore white pants and white tunics. Could they be doctors?

  “Everything will be okay,” the man said.

  “Am I dead?” Gabriel asked. Best to start with the most important question first.

  “You were, and in some ways you are, but you aren’t,” the woman said.

  “It’s complicated,” the man added. Dead but not dead. Yes, that sounded complicated.

  “Where am I?” Gabriel asked. “Is this a hospital? Where are my parents? I have their work numbers on a laminated card in my pocket
. My mom insisted. She likes to plan ahead.”

  “I hate this part,” the man repeated.

  “You’re someplace safe,” the woman said. That seemed…vague.

  “My parents…?” Gabriel said.

  “Your parents are fine,” the man answered. That was vague as well. All this vagueness was beginning to make his head hurt.

  “I want to see my parents,” Gabriel said, trying to sound like he had the authority to demand what he wanted. He sat up a little. His head spun a bit, but it wasn’t bad. He could see more of the room now. It clearly wasn’t a hospital room. Not any hospital he’d ever seen. Not with walls of white painted stone.

  “What’s going on?” Gabriel said. “Why won’t you tell me where I am? Why won’t you let me see my parents? Who are you?” There was another question. One he didn’t want the answer to. “What do you mean I was dead, but I’m not dead?”

  “We will answer your questions,” the woman said. “All of your questions. However, we have found that it is best not to head directly to the answers, but to come at them sideways. To sneak up on them, as it were. First come the introductions. My name is Sema and this is Ohin.”

  “I’m Gabriel.”

  “Yes, we know,” said Ohin as he stroked his chin.

  “Tell me, Gabriel,” Sema asked, “did you know you were going to drown? Did you sense it in some way?”

  Gabriel’s eyes opened a little wider. How could they know? What was going on? “Yes,” he replied. “I had a dream.”

  “And you had dreams like this often, didn’t you,” Ohin said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” Gabriel answered. “My parents always think I’m making it up.”

  “But the things you see in your dreams always come true,” Sema said.

  “Yes,” Gabriel said. “No matter what I do.”

  “But do they always come true exactly the way you dream them?” Ohin asked.

  “No,” Gabriel answered. “If I try to change them, the events change, but the result is the same.”

  “This is usually called precognition or clairvoyance,” Sema said.

  “It is a sign,” Ohin added. “An indicator.”

  “Of what?” Gabriel asked.

  “Of sensitivity,” Sema said.

  “Sensitivity to what?” Gabriel pressed.

  “What do you think?” Ohin asked in return.

  “What kind of game is this?” Gabriel asked. “Who are you?”

  “Sensitivity to what?” Ohin repeated.

  Gabriel didn’t like this. No answers, just more questions. Questions he didn’t like the answers to. And he knew the answer to the question. This wasn’t the first time he had thought about the dreams and what they meant and why he had them. He’d asked this question himself. Many times. And he still didn’t like the answer.

  “Sensitivity to what?” Ohin said a third time, his voice gentle.

  “To the flow of time,” Gabriel said, staring into the deep brown eyes of the strange man before him.

  “So you think you know what’s going to happen in the future?” Sema asked.

  “Sometimes,” Gabriel said. “When I dream. When the dream feels more real than being awake.”

  “And do you believe that you see the future?” Ohin asked.

  “Sometimes,” Gabriel said.

  “Sometimes you see the future or sometimes you believe it?” Sema asked.

  “Sometimes I see the future,” Gabriel said. “I always believe it.”

  “If you believe you can see the future, and you dreamed of yourself drowning,” Ohin asked, “why did you swim back down to the bus when you were safe on the shore?”

  “Because it wouldn’t have changed anything,” Gabriel said. “Even if I had stayed with Tom on the shore, it would have worked out that I was drowning some way. It always does.”

  “So you believe the future is immutable?” Ohin asked. “Fixed in stone.”

  “Not exactly,” Gabriel replied. “It’s flexible like the branch of a tree. You can bend it a little, but it always springs back to where it was. Just a little different, maybe.”

  “So you believe the future is set, but somewhat malleable?” Sema asked.

  “Yes,” Gabriel said. “That’s what I said. What is this? Why are you asking me these questions?”

  “Why don’t you take a moment to think it through?” Ohin said.

  “We’ve told you everything you need to know,” Sema added.

  Gabriel had been thinking it through. While one side of his mind answered Ohin and Sema’s questions, the other side puzzled through all of the possibilities, examining all of the things he knew and looking for potential answers that would fit the circumstances. Why was he here with strangers? Why did they not look like doctors? Where were his parents? Why was this not a hospital? Why were they asking him questions about his dreams and seeing the future? How could they have known about his dreams about the future? How could they have known he had sensed he would drown? How could they have known that he swam back down to the bus? Why would they say that he had been dead? That he was dead, but in some ways, he wasn’t?

  “What year is this?” Gabriel asked. Best to ask a question when you fear you have the right answer. Particularly if the answer to your question might prove you wrong, and Gabriel desperately wanted to be wrong.

  “Oh, he’s quick,” Sema said.

  “It took me ten minutes,” Ohin said.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Gabriel said, a hint of annoyance and fear finally reaching his voice.

  “Because the answer will sound absurd without some explanation,” Ohin said. “First, let me tell you that you are not in the time and place you were when you died.”

  “So I did die?” Gabriel asked. It had certainly felt like it when the water filled his lungs and his vision went black. Gabriel pushed the thought away.

  “Yes,” Sema said. “That was necessary, unfortunately.”

  “But I’m not dead now.” Gabriel said. That seemed clear enough.

  “Not from your perspective,” Ohin said. Maybe not as clear as he thought.

  “If I’m not dead from my perspective, from whose am I?” Gabriel asked.

  “Think it through,” Ohin said in a soft voice.

  Gabriel was getting a little tired of being asked to think things through. “I’m dead to everyone in my time, aren’t I?” he said. Ohin only nodded in response. “My parents. My sister. My friends. Everyone I knew. They all think I’m dead.”

  “You are dead in their time, Gabriel,” Sema said. “You did drown in that bus. You did die.”

  “But then how can I be here?” Gabriel asked. “And how can they think I’m dead if there’s no body? And don’t tell me to think it through.”

  “If you knew the answer to that question without being told, I’d be lining up to be your apprentice,” Ohin said. “You did die, but we took you from the bus the moment you expired. And your parents think you are dead because they buried a body that looked just like yours.”

  “I’ll never see my parents again, will I?” Gabriel asked, tears beginning to push at the edges of his eyes. He knew the answer, but he had to ask.

  “That you can think through, as well,” Ohin said.

  “If I went back to them,” Gabriel said, thinking out loud, “that would change things. If I went back, time couldn’t snap back to where it should be.”

  “Exactly,” Sema said. “And what do you think would happen then?”

  Good question, Gabriel thought. What happened when you changed time so badly it couldn’t go back to the way it was supposed to be? Would time just change permanently? That didn’t seem right. That didn’t fit with the way he dreamed the future. If time couldn’t change, either it was physically impossible for him to return to his parents, or doing so would result in something else. Something different.

  “It would create two times,” Gabriel said. “If I went back, it would change time and there would be two timelines, on
e where I was dead and one where I just appeared alive again.”

  “You are going to have your hands full, Ohin,” Sema said.

  “I am going to have the best apprentice the Council has seen in a hundred years,” Ohin replied with a smile. “You are right, Gabriel. If you went back now, the Primary Continuum, the central timeline of the universe, would spilt. Your presence would be so radically different that the Primary Continuum could not absorb the change, and a bifurcation, a new branch of time, an alternate reality, would be created. A parallel universe where, as you said, you simply appeared.”

  “So why can’t I do that?” Gabriel said. He was starting to get angry now. This wasn’t fair at all. Whoever these people were, they should not be keeping him here when he could go home. “You brought me here, wherever here is, you can take me back. Who cares if there’s a parallel universe where I’m alive? I think that would be a great universe. I’m sure my parents would be happy about it.”

  “What happens when a tree has too many branches?” Ohin asked.

  “What happens when a branch has too many branches?” Sema added.

  “And what happens if the branches reach too far from the main trunk of the tree?” Ohin continued.

  Gabriel saw it in his mind. Branches reaching out too far, tilting the tree, the trunk splintering under the weight, breaking away, killing the tree. “The Primary Continuum is damaged by branches, isn’t it? The more branches, the more dangerous it is to the entire timeline. So I can never go back.” He felt the weight of the words sink into his heart. They had taken him just as he died so that his absence wouldn’t change the main timeline. But why had they taken him in the first place? Why expend all that effort to save his life? Did he really want to know?

  “You can move through time,” Gabriel said, ignoring the questions in his head.