The Wizard of Time (Book 1)

by G. L. Breedon

  “I suppose.”

  “And Ohin?”

  “My teacher. For Time Magic.”

  “And you’ve been trained in the other magics, have you?”

  “Not yet. Akikane is going to be my primary teacher. And the rest of the team will help.”

  “The serial repeater and that slack-jawed lot sitting around the table? Fat lot of good they’ll be, teaching you magic.”

  “They’ve done well so far,” Gabriel said with a slightly defensive tone. Whatever had made Nefferati unhappy all those years ago seemed to have kept her unhappy.

  “And who’s teaching you to use the dark imprints?” Nefferati said.

  “No one. I don’t want to use dark magic,” Gabriel said, remembering what it felt like to touch the imprints of the Scottish sword and the Aztec pyramid.

  “I suppose Queen Elizabeth supports this foolish notion,” Nefferati said with derision.

  “We haven’t actually discussed it,” Gabriel said. “I made the decision on my own.”

  “How the hell do you expect to fulfill the prophecy of the Seventh True Mage if you don’t use dark magic?” Nefferati asked.

  “I thought I had fulfilled the prophecy,” Gabriel said.

  “Only the first part, boy,” Nefferati said. “The easiest part.” Nefferati glanced behind them. “Do you have a talisman yet?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, looking behind. He wondered what was living in the forest they walked through. Were there people nearby? It seemed unlikely, but it would be just his luck to run across some ancient Neolithic Chinese hunting party and inadvertently create a new timeline.

  “Let me see it,” Nefferati said, holding out her hand. Gabriel dug in his pocket and retrieved the silver watch, placing it in Nefferati’s outstretched palm. She looked at it and sniffed. “Is that it? No others? Nothing hidden in your sock for emergencies?”

  “No,” Gabriel said, realizing as she spoke that it might not be such a bad idea to keep a spare Talisman handy. Sema, at least, had more than one talisman.

  “Good,” Nefferati said taking one more glance behind them at the path leading back to the hut. They had walked nearly half a mile while they talked, and Gabriel could not even see the hut through the trees any more. As he looked back from the trail behind them, he saw Akikane standing in the path ahead. Nefferati saw him as well.

  “Release the boy,” Akikane said, drawing his sword from the sheath strapped to his waist in one silent and elegant motion.

  “You always were the quickest one of the lot,” Nefferati said, taking a small coin from a pocket of her dress. “But not quick enough.” Then the all-too-familiar blackness surrounded Nefferati and Gabriel and her hand clutched at his arm like a vise. Gabriel didn’t understand what was happening. He barely had time to struggle when the whiteness overtook everything.

  They stood in a field near an ocean. Gabriel tried to break free of Nefferati’s grip, but it was useless. She was incredibly strong for someone so aged. The blackness followed swiftly by the whiteness again, and they stood outside a ruined castle. Nefferati jumped again. And again. Gabriel lost count and began to get dizzy. It was much more difficult to make repeated jumps as a tagalong rather than as the Time Mage doing the jumping. Finally, they came to a stop in the middle of another forest. The trees were thicker this time. And taller. Oak and hickory, Gabriel thought as he looked around. It seemed like it must be midday, but very little light fell through the canopy of the trees.

  “What’s going on?” Gabriel shouted as he finally broke free of Nefferati’s gasp. He stepped back several paces as she released him. “What are you doing? We didn’t come to hurt you!”

  Nefferati laughed. Then her body began to morph, her skin changing color, the shape of her face altering, her hair becoming long and straight and night-deep black. Gabriel stared in shock. Several seconds later, he was looking at an Indian woman nearly half a head shorter than the woman she had been a second before. She had a thin face with a strong jawline and deep set eyes. She smiled ominously at him. “They could not hurt me if they tried,” the woman said, her dark brown eyes filled with a mixture of contempt and pleasure. “I wonder how that old Japanese fool figured it out. No matter. He will not be able to follow us where we go next.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Gabriel said, beginning to suspect the full implications of what had just happened and exactly how much danger he was in. “I know who you are.”

  “Well, at least they’ve taught you that much,” the woman said. “But your education will be under my supervision from now on.”

  “What do you want?” Gabriel asked.

  “I have what I want,” the woman said. “And it is time we were gone.”

  “I won’t go with you,” Gabriel said.

  “Oh, I think you’ll do exactly as I say,” the woman said. “Now sleep.” She waved her hand before her, and Gabriel felt his eyes flutter and his mind fade to blackness.

  Chapter 17: Palace of Light Darkness

  The fog of sleep slowly dissipated, gradually replaced by greater and greater clarity until one thought finally managed to solidify in Gabriel’s mind.

  Kumaradevi.

  That thought brought him to full consciousness in an instant. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to still be sleeping, listening for any sign of where he might be and what might have happened to him. He was lying on his back in a bed, it seemed, with a heavy blanket drawn up to his chin. The glow on the back of his eyelids told him there was light entering from somewhere, possibly a window. He could hear nothing except his own breathing, which had quickened its pace considerably since he regained his senses.

  He opened his eyes. What he saw was not at all what he had expected.

  He was in an enormous four-poster bed with soft pale sheets and a thick down comforter with a black and red design of seven intersecting swords embroidered on it. Sitting up, he saw a window letting light into the room, its long velvet drapes cast aside. There were several windows, in fact, for the room was large and opulently furnished.

  Climbing from the bed, he examined the room more closely. A large mahogany desk and two huge leather chairs sat beside a small couch and a low table. Near this sat a dining table with a wooden top and slender, ornately carved stone legs. On top of the table lay a silver serving tray with several plates topped with silver covers. A crystal pitcher of water rested beside the tray with a crystal goblet. Behind the table, near the far wall, sat a large copper tub for bathing. On the wall opposite the windows were two tall and well-polished oak dressers between which stood an enormous walnut armoire. Wide and intricately woven rugs with abstract and repetitious patterns covered the stone floor and long tapestries depicting colossal and violent battles draped the walls. There was a lone door, carved from a single piece of wood with large iron bands bolted across it for reinforcement. The inside of the door had no handle and no hinges. Gabriel wasn’t getting out until someone came for him. But getting out of where? Where was he?

  As he looked down, he realized that he wore black silk pajamas. His clothes had been taken. His chunk of amber, his only way home. He got up and went to the armoire, opening the carved wooden doors wide. Inside were several sets of clothes, all identical. Black pants and black shirts with a red symbol of a sword woven into the chest. And several thick, wool jackets with the red sword sewn on the right breast. The floor of the armoire had three pairs of black leather shoes. He opened the drawers of the dressers. Underclothes and socks were all he found. There was no sign of the pocket watch or piece of amber that could take him back to the castle or the book that Ohin had given him, The Time Traveler’s Pocket Guide to History. He had hoped they might leave him the book. If it had been printed at the castle, it might have been able to take him back there.

  With a sudden flash of thought, he placed his hand to his neck and found the amulet still there. Surely the amulet had been made at the castle. He pulled it out and his hopes evaporated. It was not the same amulet. This
one was a piece of flat, circular obsidian. He had nothing to link him back to the castle. And Kumaradevi had his pocket watch. If he managed to retrieve the pocket watch, could he use it to escape? It was just one small question among far too many larger ones. Where was he? What had happened to the real Nefferati? What did Kumaradevi want with him? What would happen next?

  He was thankful when his stomach rumbled to voice its unhappiness at being empty. It distracted him from his thoughts. He walked over to the dining table and lifted the edge of the silver cover from the large china plate. Underneath sat an omelet with bacon and fried potatoes. Under the silver cover of a smaller plate, he found a large, thick-cut piece of toasted wheat bread. Beside the plate sat a glass jar with some sort of dark berry jam and a small silver spoon. Gabriel’s stomach growled again. Looking up from the plate of food, he realized the one thing he had not done, the one place he had not looked. He went to the nearest window.

  The sight through the window filled him with despair. He was in a tower of some sort in the middle of a large and sprawling palace. Looking down, he could see that the window of his tower chamber resided at least two hundred feet above the palace buildings below. He thought about cutting the drapes and tying them together to create a rope, but there was no way to open the window. He would have to break the thick and heavily leaded glass to escape through the window. It was a possibility, but one that would have to wait for a later time.

  Staring out the window again, he tried to get a sense of when and where he might be. The palace was like none he had ever seen in any book. The buildings were of gray and black granite blocks of various sizes and shapes. If the walls of his room were any indication of the masonry used to construct the rest of the palace, the blocks fit together without the benefit of mortar. It reminded him of the construction of Incan stone masonry he had read about, but the style and design of the buildings was wholly different from any he was familiar with.

  All of the buildings were built to a scale that implied giants might be housed within, although he could see people walking along the wide internal streets of the palace. The shorter buildings had a circular shape with domed roofs, while the taller buildings were composed of different-sized square blocks, welded together at the seams. From another window, Gabriel could glimpse the edge of what might have been a pyramid of some sort. Beyond the palace, a city of short and squalid buildings spread out for miles. The city was a complete contrast to the palace in every way. The palace was haunting in its stark, colossal design while buildings made from scraps of wood, mud, stone, and grass lined the city. It looked like a good stiff wind could blow the city away at any moment.

  Gabriel sighed, his fears and suspicions overwhelming him for a moment. If he was right, he was very far from home. Very far indeed. And it wouldn’t matter if he had his pocket watch at all. His stomach rumbled again. He looked back to the table with the breakfast that had been prepared for him. At least his captor wanted him to be well fed and comfortable. He tried not to think about his captor. Not just yet. Not until he had eaten. And it would be best to dress before eating. Who knew what might happen after breakfast?

  Dressing took little time. There was no choice in what to wear. He pulled on a tightly tailored black wool jacket and slipped on his black leather shoes, idly wondering how his captor had known his sizes so well. His clothes and shoes fit perfectly. That could not be simple chance. How long had he been asleep? How much had they known about him before his kidnapping? How much more did they know about him now?

  Before eating, he moved the serving tray to the opposite side of the table so that he could see the door. He didn’t want to spend his time thinking about what might come through the door while his back was to it. This way he could face the door as he considered his predicament and try to remember as much as he could about Kumaradevi. He knew she had been an Indian princess of some sort. That she was dangerous. But what else?

  He realized that she was right about one thing at least; his education under the Council’s guidance had been woefully incomplete. But then again, he doubted that Councilwoman Elizabeth or Akikane or anyone else on the Council could have anticipated this. Or could they? Only his team and the council knew that he was the Seventh True Mage. Was it possible that one of the Council members was a spy for Kumaradevi? Or maybe an assistant to one of the council members. The only other possibilities were the members of his team, and he refused to believe that any of them could have sold him out for any reason.

  As he finished the last bite of his omelet, there came a soft knock at the door. It didn’t strike him as coincidence, and he quickly scanned the room for places where someone might be able to spy on him through a peephole. There were too many likely spots, and he had no time to consider the question as the door opened. Gabriel pushed the chair back from the table and stood up. It might be a good idea to be on his feet. Just in case.

  A young woman in a long, rough-spun, brown wool dress entered with her head bowed. The first thing Gabriel noticed was her bare feet. The second was the thick iron collar that she wore. It fit snugly around her neck, and Gabriel could see where it had chafed her dark brown skin raw. She kept her eyes down as she entered and did not look up until she stopped a few feet away from him. She had deep blue eyes, which contrasted with her dark black hair. She had smooth skin and a narrow nose, but her eyes seemed tired, and her hunched shoulders gave her a fearful look. Although she had looked up, she did not meet his eyes.

  “I am Pishara,” the woman said with a curtsy. “I am to be your server.”

  Gabriel looked at Pishara for a moment and then past her to the open door. Beyond the doorway lay a corridor filled with shadows. Something else was out there. Someone else. He could sense it. Now might not be the best time to make a run for it. “What does that mean?” Gabriel asked, wondering if she had come to take the empty plates away.

  “I am to be your servant here in the palace,” Pishara said. “If you have need of anything, I will provide it for you.”

  “I had a piece of amber with a beetle trapped in it inside in my pocket,” Gabriel said.

  “That you may not have,” Pishara said. “Are you finished with your meal?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, stepping from behind the table.

  “Was it to your liking?” Pishara asked.

  “It was very good,” Gabriel said, wondering where this conversation might head.

  “And you rested well?” Pishara asked.

  “Fine,” Gabriel said. “Slept like a baby.”

  “That is good,” Pishara said, almost smiling. “Now it is time I take you to see the Empress.” Gabriel had a very good idea who the Empress was. “You will follow me.” Pishara walked to the door, not bothering to see if Gabriel would follow. He wondered just what sort of servant she was. The sort who could give him orders as well as bring him breakfast, he guessed.

  Following Pishara out the door of his room, he discovered that he had been right, there were people in the corridor. Two very large and pale men wearing leather and mail armor and holding long metal spears stood on either side of the doorway. One reached out and closed the door, but otherwise neither acknowledged his presence.

  The corridor darkened immediately, but a dim light glowed ahead, and Gabriel followed the silhouette of Pishara toward it. The source of the light was another corridor where two more men stood. These men were dressed in clothes much like his own. The taller one had deep black hair and a red flame embroidered on his left jacket breast, while the shorter one had reddish hair and a red circle on his left jacket breast. They caught Gabriel’s eye with a look of contempt, but fell in step, without a word, behind him and Pishara. She led them to a flight of spiral stairs that seemed to go down forever.

  “This is Viktor and Seamus,” Pishara said, indicating the men who followed them with a raised hand. “They will be your bodyguards. To protect you.” To make sure he didn’t escape was more like it.

  Gabriel followed her around and around and down and dow
n the stairs for several minutes before they reached what he assumed was the ground level. While he wasn’t winded, he wasn’t looking forward to climbing those stairs to get back to his room. Then it dawned on him that he might never see that comfortable room again. That was a thought best pushed aside, which is exactly what he did.

  Pishara led Gabriel and his guards through corridor after corridor, some wide, some slender, some lined with paintings and tapestries, some lined with windows that looked out over the rest of the palace. Finally, they arrived before two enormous bronze-clad doors that rose some thirty feet above the floor. On either side of the doors stood four guards with spears. They looked much like the men outside his tower cell. They stared straight ahead with a look that implied instant death for anyone who was not supposed to enter.

  The redheaded guard to Gabriel’s right extended his hand and the huge doors swung slowly open. As the doors glided inward, Gabriel felt gently with his magic-sense and realized that the redheaded guard was a Wind Mage. A Malignancy Wind Mage. That explained the dagger on his belt. Probably his talisman, Gabriel thought. The red circle on his jacket must mark him as a Wind Mage. The red flame embroidered on the other guard’s jacket probably meant he was a Fire Mage. These were good things to know. Things he might be able to use later. At least he would know what a mage was without having to probe them with his magic-sense.

  As the doors continued to swing open, Pishara led the way into a room so large that Gabriel had trouble believing his eyes. Gigantic stone pilasters set into the granite walls and a long row of free-standing columns supported a vaulted ceiling some one hundred fifty feet above. Between the pilasters stood thin windows that rose from twenty feet above the floor nearly all the way to the roof. Ornamentation of gold and silver decorated the stone of the walls and the support columns. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each with a thousand candles burning, casting a warm glow to the room. The stone floor was a continuous mosaic of different-colored granite stones, making a pattern of seven swords crossing at the hilt.