The Orphanage of Miracles (The Kingdom Wars Book 1)

by Amy Neftzger

  “This orphanage can’t run itself!” Mr. Pontiff exclaimed. He stood up tall and spoke in a loud, accusing tone. “Who’s going to make sure that things get done? Who’s going to be in charge?”

  “Taro will run it,” the king announced firmly but calmly. Taro looked up in surprise. “He’s the best choice for the job because he knew enough to challenge something that didn’t look like truth. He tested it with both his mind and his heart, and that’s what we need in this world where nobody can determine what’s real. When we fail to ask the right questions, we give the sorcerer all the help he needs to spread his lies. Even good people help the sorcerer with his cause when they accept without questioning. This needs to stop if we want to survive.”

  Taro felt surprised and overwhelmed as he looked from the fearful faces of the Pontiffs to the king. He wasn’t sure how the king knew that he had challenged the Pontiffs or why the king thought he was a better choice than anyone else to be in charge of the facility.

  “I’m not sure if I know how to run an orphanage,” Taro replied. He felt the chill of the autumn air moving into winter, and it felt scary yet invigorating. Things were certainly changing.

  “That’s because it hasn’t been run very well up until this point,” the king replied. “Don’t look at how things have been done in past. Think about how things need to be run in order to help the children. And the first thing I think this place needs is to become a school again.”

  “A school?” The shock in Mrs. Pontiff’s voice was evident. Her white face was turning a rosy color in the cold. This was the most color that Nicholas had ever noticed on her face, and he didn’t know if it was all due to the cold or if some of it was due to the turn of events.

  “When I gave my house to the Pontiffs to manage, my intention was to teach children and help them grow into the sort of people who could create miracles.”

  “They had us making miracles,” Maggie replied. “We worked in the lab. We worked in other places, too. But those jobs didn’t turn out very well, and we couldn’t make miracles in them.”

  “Miracles refuse to be manufactured,” the king responded as he slowly shook his head. “They have a mind of their own, and you can’t make them go where they don’t want to go. They choose who they surrender themselves to, so you need to be the right sort of person to attract a miracle.”

  “What sort of people are they drawn to?” Maggie asked.

  “People of virtue. Not the imitation of virtue that the Pontiffs have shown that looks like rules and order, but authentic virtue. Real virtue is sometimes messy because it comes from the heart and is rooted in love. I’m talking about the forms of virtue that I had ordered written on the walls of the orphanage to remind you of what we should all strive to become.”

  “On the walls?” Nicholas asked.

  The words. The ones he thought were powerless because they had no meaning. They had the potential to become the most powerful things of all, but no one could recognize them. Nicholas felt dizzy at the thought that he and his friends had been so close to understanding the importance of the words, but they hadn’t been able to figure out what they meant.

  “Those words above the doors in all the rooms? The ones on the plaques?” Nicholas asked for clarification.

  “Yes,” the king replied. “These things are so important that I had them placed all over the building, in every room. They were engraved and inscribed as well as painted, but they were everywhere because I wanted them to be a constant reminder.”

  Nicholas and his friends suspected that the words might hold a clue on how to create miracles. They had just been looking at it the wrong way. Instead of telling them what to do, the words were telling them who to be. The words were trying to teach them to be the sort of people that attract miracles.

  “No one knows what those words mean anymore, Sire,” Maggie replied. “Even the old tailor has forgotten.”

  “They’re written in Latin,” the king explained.

  “Perhaps next time you should write them in English,” Maggie suggested, and the king laughed.

  “When I had them written, everyone could speak Latin and understood the words perfectly. I had no idea that the education in this place would decline so much.”

  “What do they mean?’ Nicholas asked. He was still curious. “We noticed that the same words are written in different places. There’s only a few of them in all, but these same words appear over and over on the walls of the orphanage.”

  “There are seven of them. The virtues are Castitas, or purity and honesty; Temperantia, which is like self control; and Caritas, which means generosity and self sacrifice. Industria is persistence and effort, and Patientia mean to endure. Humanitas can mean compassion or integrity, and Humilitas is similar to modesty or altruism.”

  “That’s quite a bit,” said Nicholas. No wonder people had forgotten when there was so much to remember.

  “I suspect you know more about how to live these than how to define them. That’s the better way to know them, but before I leave, I’ll help Taro with understanding these so that he can teach the others,” the king said. “It’s important. We need to teach all of the virtues to the children.” He turned to Jovan and continued, “Taro will need your help. You’re naturally curious and will make an excellent teacher once you’re trained properly. Taro is going to need good teachers like you to help train the others. It’s going to be hard work because it’s been neglected for so long. But it’s necessary.”

  “Thank you, Sire,” Jovan replied quietly. He didn’t know what to say to royalty, and he felt awkward. Inside he knew that this was what he really wanted. He desired to learn and help others to do the same. Then Jovan added, “I’d like to build the library, also.”

  “Of course,” the king agreed. “Information is the keystone of education. You can help Taro determine what kind of books we need and on what topics. I’ll make sure that you get them.”

  “We’ll do our best, Sire,” Taro assured the king. “we’ll get started as soon as you’re ready to teach us.”

  “Can I learn also?” Nicholas asked hopefully. “I’d like to be included in those lessons on virtue.”

  “Yes, I’ll include you, Nicholas,” the king answered. “But you won’t be staying in the orphanage to teach others. Your family misses you.”

  “Family?” Nicholas asked with a surprised expression. “I thought I was an orphan.”

  “No,” the king said quietly. “You only thought you were because of the sorcerer’s spell, and you wandered here. When your parents passed away, you were given to your uncle to raise, but you became confused and lost. One of the reasons I came here was to find you and bring you home.”

  Nicholas felt confused and didn’t know what to say. He looked around at his friends, who appeared equally surprised. Then he looked back at the king.

  “Are you sure you aren’t confusing me with someone else?” Nicholas asked. “Because I don’t even remember my parents.”

  “I’m not confused, and you’re not the only child who wandered here, thinking that they had lost all of their family. Not everyone who thinks they’re alone in this world really is. They’ve just been separated from the place where they belong, and this makes them feel alone,” the king explained. “And many who feel alone simply haven’t discovered the family waiting for them.”

  There were so many questions Nicholas wanted to ask about the things he had forgotten. He wanted to know about his uncle and about the little things, like the color of his father’s eyes and what his mother’s smile looked like. But the first thing he wanted to know was how he became confused.

  “What exactly is the sorcerer’s spell?” Nicholas asked. “How does it work? Does it kill the truth?”

  The temperature was becoming even colder, and Nicholas noticed that as he spoke he could now see clouds of breath coming from his own mouth. Everything appeared crisper, and not just the air. Even the fireflies in the forest appeared clearer as they lit up and started to
sing quietly as the sun was fading behind the barren trees. For some reason, the cold air helped to bring things into focus.

  “The spell never completely kills the truth,” the king replied. “Because if all the truth is gone, what remains is easily recognized as false. Without some element of truth, the lies have no power to deceive.” He paused and the group waited patiently for him to continue his explanation. He saw their eagerness for information and continued. “No, in order to be fully effective, the spell protects the smallest grains of truth, but only as much as is needed for the purpose of deceiving. The rest is distorted. It’s a very cleaver spell.”

  “Is it true that the sorcerer cast the spell because he wanted to take over the kingdom?” Kelsey asked. She wanted to know if the story she had heard as a child was true. Her father had told her so, and Megan had told her the same story. Now she had the chance to speak with someone who would know for certain.

  “Yes. The sorcerer tried to attack the kingdom, but he lost the first battle. My army was too strong and had been prepared for a direct attack. But then he took some time to study the weaknesses of the kingdom. That’s how he came up with the spell that we’re living under. He’s made it difficult for people to see clearly, and he altered perceptions, which created the chaos in which we now live. The older you are, the stronger the spell becomes because it builds with time. That’s why children have the best potential for learning to fight the spell and why I want to be sure that we teach them properly.”

  “So you created the orphanage of miracles,” Nicholas added thoughtfully as he watched a snowflake land on his sleeve and then dissolve.

  Jovan spoke up: “But if you have powers that are supposed to be equal to the sorcerer’s, why do you need the miracles?”

  As Jovan waited for a response, he felt apprehensive over the way he had asked the question, and tried to think of a way to rephrase it more politely. However, the king didn’t get angry or laugh at Jovan. He simply answered the question as if Jovan had asked about the weather or another ordinary topic.

  “I don’t need the miracles. The people do,” the king explained. “That’s the other reason I came here. It’s time for these miracles to go home where they belong. They were never meant to be isolated or saved. They were meant to be where they were needed.” The king turned around and motioned to the large entrance doors of the orphanage. “I’d like to enter my house again. I’ve been kept out of it for much too long. It’s time to show Kelsey the garden while Mr. and Mrs. Pontiff pack their things.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Garden That Has Not Grown

  Kelsey and the king stood in the doorway and looked over the courtyard filled with miracles. The snow was still falling, and it was beginning to stick to the leaves of the plants. However, the flakes that dropped onto the miracles simply melted and made the miracles shine even more brightly. Despite the overcast sky, the damp stones glistened as if the sun were shining fully.

  Kelsey pulled the stone out of her pocket and held it in the palm of her hand as she looked over the garden. There were thousands of similar stones, but the quantity surrounding it didn’t diminish the brilliance of the one in her hand. She knew that this one was hers, and that made a difference.

  “The path is paved with miracles,” she said aloud as she watched the king stepping out onto the stone walkway. “Won’t we crush them with our weight? They’ll be ruined!”

  “Miracles are tougher than you think. It’s only our belief in them that’s fragile,” he replied as he continued to walk without inhibition. He was a sturdy man who was physically fit as well as confident in the way he carried himself. He walked deliberately and with force. Kelsey watched as the miracles easily supported his weight. “Don’t be afraid,” he encouraged her as he looked back over his shoulder and motioned her forward. “Come with me.”

  Kelsey stepped onto the stone path with caution, but as her feet settled into the rocks, she knew he was right. She could feel that the miracles enjoyed bearing her weight. They felt happy supporting her as she walked, and Kelsey could feel the happiness rising throughout her body. The miracles wanted to be helpful, if even in a small way.

  “They like having us here, don’t they?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Miracles need people as much as people need miracles. These have been starving.”

  Kelsey looked down the path on which they were walking and saw that it branched in many directions. There must have been thousands of miracles.

  “There are so many of them,” she said with wonder in her voice. She’d always thought about miracles as very rare things, and here she was amid thousands of them. Perhaps millions. It was too difficult to count. It was also an incredible feeling to be walking upon them and knowing how many of them had yet to feel useful in even the slightest way.

  “So many unfulfilled promises are here,” the king said. “We don’t yet know the power of these miracles because they’ve been kept where they couldn’t grow to full potential.”“They’re in a garden,” Kelsey remarked, taking more steps. “Doesn’t a garden grow things? Isn’t that what a garden is supposed to do?”

  “If someone is caring for it. Gardens that are neglected often grow the wrong sorts of things. This garden hasn’t grown anything at all. The miracles here have been neatly tucked away like heirloom china shut up inside of dusty rooms because the pieces were too fragile and valuable to ever be used. But that isn’t healthy. When you keep miracles confined, they become less powerful, and they never reach their full potential.”

  “Why is that?” Kelsey asked as they slowly walked through the garden. The king stopped briefly to examine the branches of a plant, and then he began walking again.

  “Hoarding a beautiful thing removes its potency,” he explained.

  “Won’t keeping something safe preserve it?”

  “Not in this case. Beautiful things need to be shared. That’s what makes them grow. Miracles need to be spread out among the people. They’re like love and friendship. These types of things become stronger when they’re shared. Meals are better when we enjoy them with others because friendship and good conversation add flavor. Flowers and music become more alluring and charming when they’re experienced with others. Joy increases and multiplies when it’s shared. This is what these things were created to become: shared experiences. So, keeping these miracles locked up didn’t help anyone, and it hurt the miracles most of all.”

  As Kelsey looked around the garden, she knew the miracles wanted to leave. Now that the enchantment around the orphanage was gone, she wondered if they could fly off like shooting stars and find their homes. After all, her miracle had arrived that way and knocked her off her feet. But if the miracles could take off, then why hadn’t they done so already?

  “So how do we get these miracles out to the people?” she asked the king.

  “We’ll have to carry them.”

  “Can’t you use magic? It would be faster.”

  “Because of the nature of magic, it’s less effective. It makes things easier and more convenient. But if we want these miracles to become as powerful as they can possibly be, then we need to move them with intention and love so that the miracles can thrive again. Love is the key thing that was missing from this garden and the source of all miracles.”

  “Like a seed!” Kelsey exclaimed. She smiled as she remembered the vendor near the desert from whom she attempted to buy miracle seeds.

  “Yes, but not like the seeds you found on our journey. Those weren’t real,” he laughed as he also recalled the experience after the desert. “Those were magic seeds and not miracles at all. There was no love in them, only desire. You can’t have a miracle without love. Magic can happen anywhere, but it doesn’t last. Love is eternal.”

  “That’s what Megan said,” Kelsey replied. The king walked around the garden, examining the plants and looking down at the miracles underfoot. The plants were small and undeveloped. None of them had grown like the plants in the orp
hanage where the children were caring for them.

  Nicholas and his friends had been waiting inside the orphanage at the entrance to the courtyard. They could feel how the presence of the king had already changed the garden. The miracles were waking up to their purposes and becoming alive again. They knew they were going home, and they had hope. The hunger they felt was leaving them and they felt reassured of their future and purpose again.

  “Do you know why I brought you here?” the king asked Kelsey as he finally turned to her.

  “You wanted to see your garden.”

  “I wanted you to see my garden,” he said and then motioned with his hand over the pathway of miracles. “This is what misplaced intention does. It’s as good as a poison in killing things that need to grow.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what this has to do with me.”

  “Things that should have been shared were isolated, and this has diminished them considerably. Although beautiful things become more enhanced when shared, painful things also diminish in power when they’re shared. Troubles that are shared hurt less than troubles borne alone.” He paused and looked Kelsey in the eye. The snow continued to fall and began sticking to the surface of his long, red hair.

  “This is the sorcerer’s most effective weapon against the kingdom. It’s his strategy,” he explained. “It’s what he did to your village. He’s constantly tricking people into isolating themselves or into isolating others. He did this here in the orphanage, where children were required to nurture their own plants without assistance or instructions from others. Children forgot who they were because there was no one to help them, and their goals were misplaced into thinking that they were only supposed to look after themselves. Bearing any pain alone increases the destruction to the person bearing it. It weakens the kingdom, especially when people don’t know what’s real and what’s not real.”