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

by G. L. Breedon

  “You run a dual risk.” Ohin reached his hand up to stroke his chin as he followed Gabriel’s gaze toward the twinkling heavens above. “If you are to lead, you must truly do so. To receive advice from Nefferati or Akikane or myself will be acceptable, but you cannot be seen as a puppet. You must assert your own will and not simply be the conduit for someone else’s. And if you do lead, you bear the burden of that leadership and all the mistakes and triumphs that might result from it.”

  “We succeed together, but I fail alone.” Gabriel had been trying not to let these same thoughts take charge of his mind.

  “It’s not quite as stark as that,” Ohin said. “However, if the Council rejects this alliance with Kumaradevi and you do try to assume the role of leader, you had better believe in and support that alliance completely. Nefferati and Akikane are right. The Grace Mages will nearly all follow you. But once they do, any plan of Nefferati and Akikane is no longer theirs. It is yours and you must own it.”

  “I know.” Gabriel sighed. Then he sighed again in exasperation at allowing himself to sigh. “If I had a better idea, I’d mention it.”

  “Sometimes there are no good ideas, merely the best choices among bad options.” Ohin placed a comforting hand on Gabriel’s back. “Like the alliance with Vicaquirao and his twin protégés.”

  “I think we can trust Vicaquirao.” Gabriel thought for a second and then amended his statement. “At least about this.”

  “Him, possibly, but what about the newly rehabilitated Apollyons?” Ohin asked. “You spent time with them both. Do you think they might betray us?”

  “I don’t know.” Gabriel furrowed his brow, pulling his eyes down from the stars and back to the flames dancing along the pile of logs before him. “I don’t trust them exactly, but I think they are sincere about wanting to stop their duplicates from destroying the Great Barrier. Especially the one Teresa and I met in Chateau Gillard. But once the Barrier is safe again, I don’t know what they’ll do.”

  “I don’t think we have any choice but to find out.” Ohin’s voice took on a sad tone. “The Council does not see what Akikane and Nefferati do — we are simply too weak after the fall of the castle and the loss of so many mages to succeed in defending the Barrier without help. And we have little option in where we can turn for assistance.”

  “If this mission with Vicaquirao is successful, the Council may believe an alliance with Kumaradevi will work.” Even as Gabriel spoke, he heard the sad, soft laugh in Ohin’s chest.

  “You are always so optimistic in the face of the unlikely and the impossible.” Ohin let his laughter grow a little louder. “A good trait for a leader to have. As long as it is tempered by a dose of realism.”

  “I’m always realistic.” Gabriel wanted to join in Ohin’s laughter, but found it catching in his throat. “The problem is, I don’t have enough experience to know when to stop being optimistic.”

  “You may rely upon me for that council,” Ohin offered.

  “I rely on you for more than that.” Gabriel said.

  There were many things Gabriel suddenly wanted to tell Ohin. Feelings and thoughts that had grown and shifted and coalesced over the years of his training under the elder mage’s tutelage. Mostly, Gabriel wished to tell him that he had become a second father. As much a parent as those he had left behind with his death. Somehow, the words did not come to his lips. Maybe it was Ohin’s reticent nature, or possibly his own adolescent embarrassment, or perhaps it was unnecessary to voice things already known and silently acknowledged.

  “And I will always be there for you to rely upon.” Ohin squeezed Gabriel’s shoulder. “Now, we should get some sleep. We have a day of infinite impossibilities ahead of us tomorrow.”

  “That’s perfect.” Gabriel climbed to his feet and helped Ohin to his own. “I feel infinitely tired and impossibly sleepy.”

  Gabriel slept well that night and woke at first light. The teams gathered for breakfast and a quick review of the mission as the rising sun gradually burned away the early mist of daybreak. They had no time for extensive training. They needed to rely upon their collective experience and skill to make the operation a success. After their meal and briefing, the teams struck the camp, removing all signs that anyone had ever been there, Earth Mages blending ash from fires into the ground, while Heart-Tree Mages coaxed new growth from trampled or burned grass. By the time the thin morning fog had dissipated, the teams were ready to depart. They assembled in the clearing, surrounding Akikane and Nefferati.

  “Is everyone ready?” Ohin pulled the ornate brooch from his pocket.

  “Yes, yes,” Akikane said. “Time to begin.”

  Gabriel sensed Ohin embrace the imprints of all seven concatenate crystals in the pouch at his waist, feeling both impressed and proud as his mentor shifted the entire assembly of 39 Grace Mages through time to the rendezvous point near the Gulf of Patras, off the western coast of Greece on October 7th of 1571.

  Chapter 8

  Infinite darkness gave way to impossible brightness that faded to reveal the teams still standing in a circle near a small, secluded dock. At the end of the mooring, a large galley ship rested in the water of the Mediterranean Sea. Aboard the ship, Vicaquirao, Cyril, and Cassius stood like statues set to guard against evil spirits.

  A gangplank gave access from the dock to the deck of the galley. Akikane and Nefferati led the way and boarded the ship first. Gabriel and his team followed. In less than a minute all of the Grace Mages had boarded. As Cyril used Wind Magic to haul in the gangplank, Vicaquirao took Akikane and Nefferati to the raised sterncastle at the aft of the ship. Gabriel and Teresa followed. He had no intention of letting Vicaquirao out of his sight and she had no intention of letting Gabriel out of hers. Ohin and the rest of the Chimera team stayed below on the deck, but they kept their eyes trained upon three Dark Mages.

  As Cyril lowered the gangplank to the deck, Cassius used Wind Magic to unfurl the lanteen mainsail down the tall mast at midship. The vessel looked to Gabriel to be a Venetian galley. It ran 138 feet long and had 24 benches for rowing on either side of the open deck with three cannons mounted in the forecastle of the bow. The arms of the long oars sat on the benches, the paddles protruding along the side of the ship from the oar holes. As Cyril helped Cassius use Wind Magic to unfold the foresail, Gabriel wondered how difficult the craft would prove to navigate into position alongside the Apollyons’ vessel.

  Vicaquirao’s hand rested on the rudder as he guided the galley into the open water. Below, on the deck, Cassius and Cyril gave instructions to the Grace Mages on how to attend to the sails. At first, wary of the former twin Apollyons, the teams stood back, ignoring the requests until Ohin and the Chimera team took up the call for assistance. Gabriel’s team had sailed on previous missions, and Ohin relieved Cyril and Cassius of their duties, pressing his fellow Grace Mages into service as an impromptu crew.

  “Hopefully our two sides will work better together in battle,” Vicaquirao said as Cyril and Cassius mounted the steps to the forecastle, standing alone above the main deck where the Grace Mages worked the sails.

  “Yes, yes.” Akikane steadied himself on the railing of the sterncastle. His smile seemed strained and he looked queasy. It appeared Akikane did not have sea legs. “We should be clear on our roles once the fighting begins.”

  “Agreed.” Vicaquirao pulled the rudder to port, and the ship tacked to starboard as the sails filled with wind. “When we get closer, we’ll need to lower the sails, and your people will need to man the oars until we are in position beside the Apollyons’ ship. Once we board the other vessel, I think it best if your mages focus on maintaining a space-time seal and pressing the attack while Cyril and Cassius and I attempt to sever the connection that links the duplicates.”

  “Good, good,” Akikane said. “I will make sure our teams know what to expect.” He gave a nearly imperceptible nod to Nefferati and Gabriel before descending the short stairs to the lower deck.

  “What about th
e space-time bubble the Apollyons have in place?” Nefferati looked out upon the open water of the Mediterranean Sea. “If they let it slip while under attack, we will need to be ready to replace it.”

  “Yes,” Vicaquirao said. “They will likely drop the space-time bubble as a diversionary tactic. They know how rigid the Council is regarding accidental bifurcations of time.”

  “We’ve assigned Time Mages to create a bubble around this vessel and extend it around the other when we attack.” Nefferati said.

  “Good.” Vicaquirao took a large rolled piece of paper from a canvas bag and spread it out across a small table nailed to the deck at the edge of the railing. Gabriel saw that the map marked the placement and motion of various ships on both sides of the battle with time markings next to each one. A dashed red line led a circuitous route through the ships. “I have charted a course through the battle that will allow us to arrive at the duplicate Apollyons’ vessel without disturbing the Primary Continuum and risking a break in time.”

  “Where did you get this ship?” Teresa said as she watched the teams of Grace Mages take up positions to crew the vessel.

  “We did as the Apollyon duplicates had done,” Vicaquirao said. “We found a ship sunk during the battle, raised it, repaired it, and brought it back through time.”

  “That explains the stains.” Teresa stepped back from the dark red blemish coloring the deck beneath her feet.

  “I’ll help navigate.” Gabriel pulled out his silver pocket watch and set it near the map. “Where is your starting mark?”

  “Here.” Vicaquirao pointed to a circle drawn around a ship on the map near the southern horn of land inside the western edge the Gulf of Patras. “This ship will come under attack by cannon fire. When the first volley strikes, that will be our zero mark. Each event on this map is marked with a time signature. We need to cross each of these points at the time indicated to avoid being hit with cannon fire or rammed by other galleys from either side of the conflict.”

  “And how much leeway do we have at each event?” Nefferati leaned closer to examine the map.

  “Very little.” Vicaquirao pointed to the ships drawn on his diagram. “The closer together the events are, the less margin for error we have. We can be off by several seconds at the edge of the battle, but the Apollyons’ ship is near the center of the conflict, meaning we need to hit each of these marks almost exactly.”

  “I’ll remain here,” Nefferati said. “With three of us extending our space-time sense, we may be able to improve our accuracy in following this course.”

  “Yes,” Vicaquirao said. “A good idea.”

  Gabriel could not tell from the tone of voice whether he believed Vicaquirao’s words or not.

  “And what about me?” Teresa asked.

  “There are plenty of oars that need rowing,” Nefferati said.

  “Hmmm,” Teresa replied. This translated into a firm statement that she would remain at Gabriel’s side.

  “The maneuvers will be tight and close together and the air filled with cannon fire,” Vicaquirao said. “You can stand at the railing and shout our instructions down to the crew on the oars.”

  “A perfect use of your skills.” Nefferati smiled at Teresa.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Teresa turned to the side, subtly ignoring Nefferati.

  “I could explain,” Gabriel said, dropping his voice so only she heard.

  “Shush,” Teresa said. “Look at your map.”

  Gabriel grinned as he studied the map, trying to get a feel for what to expect. The sounds of cannon fire, at first faint and hard to discern behind the flapping of the sails and the lapping of water against the hull, became evermore loud. Each gunpowder boom grew in volume with every yard closer they came to the battle. As the galley sailed around the tip of the isthmus creating the Gulf of Patras, the Battle of Lepanto came into full view.

  Gabriel had taken a few moments the night before to read through the entry about the battle in The Time Traveler’s Pocket Guide to History, but his research did not prepare him for the deadly chaos he witnessed on the waters off the coast of Greece. The combatants of the battle ultimately fought for the control of Cyprus, but also to determine how far and fast the Ottoman Empire could continue to expand through the western hemisphere. Muezzinzade Ali Pasha commanded the Ottoman fleet, assembling his 230 galleys in a crescent formation facing his adversaries. The opposing fleet, led by the illegitimate half-brother of the King of Spain, Don Jon of Austria, comprised 206 galleys and six galleasses, vessels larger and more heavily armed than the smaller galley ships.

  Don Jon’s forces represented a combined fleet with ships from the independent city of Venice, Hapsburg Spain, Genoa, and several smaller contingents from the Papacy, Savoy, and Malta’s Knights of St. John. Christened the Holy League, Don Jon’s fleet set sail to relieve the Venetian forces of Cyprus from attack by the Ottomans. Upon encountering Ali Pasha’s ships, Don Jon broke his fleet into four squads. Eventually, Don Jon used his more nimble fleet to outflank Ali Pasha’s galleys and crush the Ottoman armada. The Holy League suffered the loss of 8,000 men while the Ottoman’s lost 20,000. The defeat signaled the end of the Ottoman Empire’s westward expansion and conquest.

  It would be a bloody day with men dying from arrows and swords and fire and cannonballs and shrapnel and downing. And at the center of the battle, at the height of the conflict, floated the Apollyons’ resurrected ship, sealed in a space-time bubble and supplied with a wealth of negative imprints should they need them.

  Gabriel saw why the Apollyons had chosen this particular hiding place. Virtually impossible to find, much less attack, the Apollyons would imagine themselves safely hidden within the Battle of Lepanto. That would be Gabriel and the attacking mages’ lone advantage.

  The sound of the cannons grew louder and the smell of sulfur on the wind reached Gabriel’s nose. Through clouds of black gunpowder smoke, he followed the vague outlines of ships engaged in battle. Ottoman ships attempted to ram Holy League ships which in turn tried to aim their guns for maximum destruction.

  “We’re getting close.” Vicaquirao pointed to a Spanish galley off the starboard bow. “Get ready to synchronize your watch.”

  “Right.” Gabriel pulled the pin of the small knob at the top of the silver timepiece and turned it until all the hands had rotated back to the center at the number 12.

  “Strike the sails and man the oars!” Vicaquirao’s voice rose above the growing din of war echoing across the rolling waters.

  “That’s my cue.” Teresa ran to the railing, leaning over and yelling at the top of her lungs like a pirate princess on the high seas. “Strike the sails and man the oars!”

  On the decks below, Akikane and Ohin issued orders, breaking the teams into two units, the first setting out to lower the sails while the second divided into groups of three, settling into every other row of benches and easing the long red oars into the sea. There were not enough Grace Mages to crew all 47 oars, but once the sails were down they would be able to keep ten per side in the water. They could not move rapidly, but with the congestion of ships fighting around them, that would be of little concern. The greater problem involved turning the ship fast enough to avoid the events that Vicaquirao had marked on his map.

  “Here it comes.” Vicaquirao watched the approaching Spanish galley as a cloud of black smoke rose from the cannon of an Ottoman ship behind it. Seconds later, the deck of the Spanish galley exploded in a mass of shattered wood and limbs and flames. “Begin now.”

  Gabriel popped the setting pin back into the pocket watch and the second hand began to tick across the numbers of the watch face.

  “The first turn is in twenty-five seconds,” Gabriel said as he glanced between the map on the table and the battle they were swiftly sailing toward.

  On the deck below, the crew had secured the sails and assumed the oars. Gabriel saw Sema and Marcus side by side with Rajan as they pulled at the long oars. Ling worked an oar w
ith two members of another team, her long, muscular arms straining against the wood and water. She almost seemed to be enjoying herself.

  “Pull…Lift…Down…Pull…” Ohin called out instructions to keep the rowers of both sides in unison and maintain a steady speed.

  Gabriel reached out with his space-time sense seeking potential disturbances their presence might create. He perceived a wave of probable divergence from the Continuum to the starboard of the ship. Looking across the bow of the galley, and then down at the map, he realized the accuracy of Vicaquirao’s drawings. He allowed a moment of hopefulness to kindle in his heart, and he then squashed it before he became distracted.

  “Event to starboard in ten…nine…eight…” Gabriel called out.

  “Hard to port!” Vicaquirao shouted as he yanked at the long wooden tiller.

  “Hard to port!” Teresa yelled down to Ohin.

  “Starboard oars up!” Ohin boomed. “Port oars down and hold.”

  Gabriel observed with his space-time sense, even more than his eyes, as the galley pulled to port, a cannonball exploding into the water off the starboard railing.

  “Steady on,” Vicaquirao said, pushing the tiller straight again.

  “Steady on!” Teresa shouted.

  “All oars up…all oars down…all pull!” Ohin yelled from the lower deck.

  Nefferati let out a long, low whistle. “Close, but well done.”

  “Only twenty six more to go.” Vicaquirao didn’t grin, but his mood appeared unreasonably lighthearted.

  Gabriel suspected the man actually relished the wild game of cat and mouse with cannon balls and bifurcations. He found that disconcerting. Moreso because he felt that same reckless excitement begin to build within his own chest.

  “Another event coming soon,” Nefferati said as she stared into the smoky battle beginning to surround them.