The Wizard of Time (Book 1)

by G. L. Breedon

  “I agree with Gabriel,” Ohin said. “He needs to know what the battle is really like. We can’t keep him caged up like some tame tiger and then set him loose in the wild and hope he fares as well as the other feral beasts.”

  “Yes, yes,” Akikane said. “I agree. Let the lion out of his cage.”

  “Like you could keep him if he wanted out,” Nefferati said with her snort of a laugh.

  “You will need more than experience for what lies ahead of you,” Elizabeth said. “You will need wisdom.” She paused for a moment, but the look on her face left no one tempted to speak. “However, you are correct. You will not gain wisdom without a chance to learn from your mistakes. Especially if the prophecy is true. You may join Ohin’s team in their search for Apollyon’s secret branch of time.”

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said, the anger draining away as though a plug had been pulled from a tub of water.

  “I will accompany them,” Akikane said, his eyes holding Gabriel’s. Akikane’s tone of voice made it clear this was not a suggestion.

  “An excellent idea,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes, yes,” Akikane said. “And Ohin will begin teaching you to increase your magical energy. You should have learned before.”

  “You can increase your magical energy?” Gabriel said, seeing immediately how that would have helped him in the arena with Kumaradevi’s Malignancy Mages.

  “Yes,” Ohin said. “We usually do not begin training in increasing magical energy until the second or third year of apprenticeship.”

  “And few who go through the training have much success,” Elizabeth said. “It requires a great deal of effort and concentration. Which is why so few mages, Grace or Malignancy, ever manage much success with it. It’s easier to find another concatenate crystal.”

  “Easy is for fools,” Akikane said. “Ohin will teach you. He is a much better teacher than he ever was a pupil.” Ohin gave Akikane a sideways glance, and Gabriel suddenly realized that Ohin had once been Akikane’s apprentice. It felt weird to think of Ohin as an apprentice.

  “So it is decided,” Ohin said.

  “And we can only hope it is the correct decision,” Elizabeth said.

  “There’s one more thing,” Gabriel said, not wanting to speak it aloud, but knowing he needed to. Knowing he needed to know. He looked at Nefferati. “What does the prophecy mean? What am I supposed to do?”

  A silence filled the room as the others exchanged looks. “I will speak to the boy alone,” Nefferati said finally. It all too closely recalled similar words spoken by a woman he had thought to be Nefferati. Gabriel’s stomach clenched involuntarily.

  “Are you sure?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I made the prophecy,” Nefferati said. “I should be the one to tell him about it.”

  “Just so, just so,” Akikane said, getting to his feet and giving Gabriel a smile.

  “We’ll see you later,” Ohin said as he stood. “The team is preparing a special dinner for you.”

  “It is good to have you back, Gabriel,” Elizabeth said, momentarily taking his face in her hands. “Do not do anything foolish to make me regret my choice.” When the other three mages were gone, Nefferati moved to sit across from Gabriel. He took a sip of the lukewarm tea to cover his nervousness as she stared at him.

  “So Vicaquirao told you the words of the prophecy, did he?” Nefferati said.

  “Yes,” Gabriel said.

  “Did he tell you what he thought it meant?” Nefferati asked.

  “He seemed to think I would threaten the existence of the entire Continuum,” Gabriel said.

  “That’s one possibility,” Nefferati said. “One of many. Prophecy is not like reading the future. Especially when it is a prophecy about things happening outside the normal flow of time in the Primary Continuum.” She paused and looked away. Then she bit her lip, an action that Gabriel found a little disconcerting as it seemed so youthful and out of character. When she turned back to him, she stared into his eyes with an intensity that made his breath stop for a moment.

  “I am going to tell you something now that I have never uttered to anyone,” Nefferati said. “I did not make the prophecy. I found it.”

  Gabriel was so unsure of the meaning of the words he had just heard that he could not fathom what to say in response. After a moment of silence, Nefferati continued as though Gabriel had found the right words to question her startling statement.

  “I was recovering from a battle,” Nefferati said. “The one in which I killed Kumaradevi’s husband. It was a fierce fight with many lives lost on both sides. Nearly my own. I was gravely wounded. Even with the help of two of the best Heart-Tree Mages, Kumaradevi’s wrathful curses clung to my body. My recovery was slow. I am told, I was often unconscious and frequently delirious. I remember nothing of that time. Nothing except a dream. A dream I kept having until it seemed that the dream was all there was. A dream of walking in the library and finding a book. A book I could never open.

  “Eventually I was well enough to go to the library and I found the book exactly where it had been in my dream. My hands trembled as I held it, afraid to pass in reality where I had been unable to tread in the dream. When I had finally mastered myself and pulled open the cover of the book, a slip of paper fell out. It was a simple piece of folded white paper. On it, written in a slanted English calligraphy, was the prophecy.”

  Gabriel could hear the blood pounding within his ears in the silence that followed Nefferati’s words. She held his eyes a moment longer and then looked out the window.

  “I have wondered for many years who might come to fulfill those words,” she said. “If anyone would come at all. But you have come. You are here. And you can wield imprints of grace and malignancy. And that means the other words of the prophecy may eventually ring true, as well.”

  “But if you didn’t make the prophecy, who did?” Gabriel asked. “And how did it get in that book?”

  “I have no idea,” Nefferati said, looking back to Gabriel. “I decided it was important for others to know of the prophecy, but the means by which I had come by it were too mysterious to reveal. So I claimed its words as my own.”

  “It called me the Breaker of Time,” Gabriel said, forcing his mouth to speak the words. “And the Destroyer of Worlds. The Dawn of the Endless Night.”

  “Words,” Nefferati said. “Not events that are set in stone. Just words. Prophecy is not destiny. I will give you the best advice I can, and it will take much willpower and much wisdom to follow it. I have tried hard to do this myself. My advice is this — Forget the prophecy.”

  “What?” Gabriel asked, not sure he had heard right.

  “Forget you ever heard it or anything about it,” Nefferati said. “That is why it was kept from you to begin with. The more you think about it, the more you will second-guess your decisions. Better to forget that you ever heard of a prophecy. Better to let the words slip from your mind like water from an open hand.”

  Gabriel sat in silence as he thought about what Nefferati had said. Could he forget the prophecy? Could he forget the words he had heard? Could he forget the phrases that pointed to his future, however vague and imprecise? And where, really, had those words come from? Who had written the prophecy? Was its author important if he was to ignore the author’s words? They were dark and powerful words. Could they be ignored? Should they be? These thoughts lead him to other dark words he had heard recently.

  “Was Vicaquirao right?” Gabriel asked. “Does there need to be darkness for light to exist? Does there need to be evil and malignancy for grace and goodness to thrive?”

  “If I thought that evil needed to exist, that anger and hatred were necessary for the Universe to function,” Nefferati said, “I wouldn’t have spent so many years trying to rid my heart of them.”

  “It almost made sense when he was saying it,” Gabriel said.

  “I’m sure it made sense to him,” Nefferati said. “We all try to twist the facts to suit our needs. I am no exce
ption. There are those who would say that the coming of the Seventh True Mage is too important an event to ignore. That I should give up my search for inner peace and come back to help you fight this war.”

  “I don’t think so,” Gabriel said, placing his hand on hers. He thought about his anger and how it felt to defeat the Malignancy Mages in Kumaradevi’s arena. “You can’t fight out of anger or hatred or revenge or you become those things. You have to fight from another place.”

  “Just so,” Nefferati said. “And when I find that place, I will return. But until that time, I want to give you something.” She placed her hands on either side of his head and drew him to her until their foreheads touched. “This is for you and you alone. If you need me. Only you.”

  A vision filled Gabriel’s mind. He saw a long sandy beach, a deeply wooded forest behind it, the waves of the ocean swelling and retreating along the shore. He also saw a house made of stone and wood, set back a good distance from the beach. He knew, without knowing how he knew, where and when this house existed. He knew he could find it with the right relic. He knew this was Nefferati’s place of retreat, and she was entrusting him with this secret in case he needed her.

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said, sitting back in his chair.

  “No, thank you,” Nefferati said. “For being so understanding of an old woman’s heart.”

  “Can I ask you something else?” Gabriel said, another question tearing at his mind.

  “Anything you wish,” Nefferati said.

  “What did you do with it?” Gabriel asked. “The paper the prophecy was written on?”

  “I put it back in the book, and put the book back on the shelf,” Nefferati said.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Gabriel said. He decided this just as he was speaking the words. What good would it do? And what would happen if he did? Was the prophecy any less true for having an unknown author?

  “That is up to you,” Nefferati said. “I did what I thought was right in the moment. I cannot say I would make the same choice today.”

  Then another question occurred to Gabriel. “What was the name of the book?”

  Nefferati’s eyes lit up as she smiled. “Les Propheties by Nostradamus.”

  Gabriel laughed so hard and so suddenly, he almost blew snot out his nose.

  “I do not know about you, but I am starving,” Nefferati said, chuckling as she stood and pulled Gabriel to his feet. “Elizabeth’s afternoon tea breaks only ever left me wanting to have real food in my mouth, not crumbling-apple-whatever.” His stomach rumbled in agreement with Nefferati, and Gabriel followed her out of the room and toward dinner. Toward a reunion with his friends. Toward his destiny, whatever it might be.

  Chapter 23: Seeking to Sever

  Cheers greeted Gabriel almost from the moment he entered the Waterloo Chamber for dinner. No sooner had he crossed the threshold of the entrance than the nearest table of mages spotted him and rose to their feet, applauding and shouting their congratulations. Gabriel was so stunned, he stopped dead in his tracks and only moved forward because Nefferati pushed him ahead with a firm hand in the middle of his back. He was thankful for her guidance, because with everyone in the room standing and clapping, he was too short to find the table with his team. Nefferati guided him through the boisterously appreciative crowd to where Ohin stood next to a table with the others. Gabriel had barely reached them when Teresa wrapped her arms around him.

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight again!” Teresa yelled above the noise of the crowd. “You can’t be trusted on your own.”

  “I made it home, didn’t I?” Gabriel yelled back as he broke into a smile.

  “No thanks to us,” Teresa said, wiping something from her eye.

  “There you are, there you are, you had us worried out of our heads,” Marcus said as he gave Gabriel a rough hug. “Got me so out of sorts I’m repeating myself like Akikane.” Gabriel saw Akikane raise an eyebrow. Before he could even laugh, Gabriel found himself passed to Sema, who crushed him to her chest so hard he thought her Venetian pendant would leave a permanent imprint on his skull.

  “We were all so afraid,” Sema said, tears dripping into Gabriel’s hair. “We didn’t know what could have happened.”

  “I was okay,” Gabriel said as Sema released him. “I had good teachers.”

  “Damn right he was okay,” Ling said as she stepped before him. “He’s the toughest one of us.” Ling didn’t hug him, but gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek instead. She must have seen the flabbergasted look on his face because she frowned before punching him in the arm and smiling. Rajan came next, embracing him like an older brother, quick, but firm, with a tussle of Gabriel’s hair.

  “It’s good to have you back,” Rajan grinned. “I knew you’d return.”

  Others from the castle stopped by the table to give their well wishes, but none so adamantly as his teammates had. After the commotion in the room died down, Gabriel took his place at the table, sitting between Teresa and Rajan. The table sat apart from the others, and was long enough to make room for Nefferati, Akikane and Elizabeth.

  As he sat down, a young serving girl filled his glass with cider. She gave Gabriel a huge smile as she poured. Teresa caught the smile and frowned, but Gabriel hardly noticed, distracted by a large bowl of corn chowder another server slid beneath his nose. A salad of fresh spinach, sliced plum tomatoes, cranberries, and walnut-crusted goat cheese followed the soup while the main course consisted of a thick-cut piece of prime rib, garlic-roasted red potatoes, and brazed asparagus. Gabriel was convinced that he could not possibly stuff another bite of food in his mouth when the serving girl placed a coconut cream pie with an almond crust and chocolate drizzle on the table. Just one piece, he told himself, but he somehow managed to make room for two.

  The conversation was as filling as the meal. It was good to be back among his friends. He had missed them all so much. Teresa’s constant wild enthusiasm, Rajan’s dry wit, Marcus’s wild stories and continual toasts, Ling’s foul-mouthed swearing, Sema’s mothering frowns, and Ohin’s paternal gaze and his clear, deep voice. Near the end of the meal, Gabriel spied Rajan and Teresa exchange the rabbit’s foot behind his back.

  “Betting whether I’d make it back?” he asked as he pushed the empty pie plate away.

  “Don’t be silly,” Teresa said with a shocked expression. “There was never any doubt about that.”

  “We were betting on how many pieces of pie you’d manage to put down,” Rajan said. “You let me down. I had you for at least three.”

  “Would it count if I took a piece for later?” Gabriel asked in mock innocence.

  “Not hardly,” Teresa said. “Besides, I already have the rabbit’s foot.” She dangled it teasingly in front of Rajan before turning to speak to Ling. Rajan leaned into Gabriel so that only he could hear what the young man had to say.

  “It will get easier,” Rajan said.

  “What will?” Gabriel asked.

  “Being the different one,” Rajan said. “The odd man out. The special case. It will get easier.”

  “I hope so,” Gabriel said. He wondered if his discomfort at being so different was obvious to the others, as well. It had been something that had been bothering him since he stepped into the room to the cheers of the castle mages. He was happy to be back, but he was nearly as much an outsider here as he had been at Kumaradevi’s palace. Here he was accepted, but he was still unlike anyone else. He could touch the power of tainted imprints while none of them could. It was worse than the feeling of difference he had always felt going to school.

  With a Jewish father and a Guatemalan mother, he had always stood out in his mostly white, rural school, but here in the castle, everyone looked different, with people from every race and religion and time period in history sitting side by side at the dinner table enjoying a meal together. However, he was different from all of them in a way that none of them could really understand. He could do things they could not. Had done things they could not. W
ould someday do things that none of them could imagine.

  “I was born during the last years of India’s fight for independence from Great Britain,” Rajan said softly, bringing Gabriel out of his thoughts and back to the table. “It was the mid-1940s, and the country was being torn apart not only by the fight for self-rule, but by clashes between Hindus and Muslims, each afraid the other would gain too much power when India ceased to be a colony. My father was Muslim and my mother was Hindu.”

  “Like Romeo and Juliet,” Gabriel said, remembering his parents’ stories of their courtship, the looks they received, and the fights within the families.

  “If only it had worked out that well,” Rajan said with a weak smile. “My parents were banished from both of their families and forced to flee the city they had grown up in. When I was born, it only complicated matters. Was I a Muslim child or a Hindu child? The other children didn’t care until a certain age. And then the opinions of their parents became very important. Independence came in 1948, and the entire country was split into new nations. India proper, for mostly Hindus in the middle, with Pakistan and Bangladesh, for Muslims, on either side. My childhood felt divided, too. I spent a great deal of time either fighting or running from a fight. Fighting Muslims who thought I was a Hindu, and Hindus who thought I was Muslim. It did not help that I was too stubborn to choose.

  “I insisted on going to the mosque with my father and attending the temples with my mother. I read the Koran and the Bhagavad-Gita and the other sacred texts of both my faiths. I refused to accept that I had to be one of the other. It felt like having to choose between my father and my mother. As though I would be saying that I loved one more than the other.”

  “What did you do?” Gabriel asked, seeing Rajan in a way he never had.

  “I died,” Rajan said calmly. “In a street fight. Fighting because I would not disown part of my heritage.”

  “But how did it get better?” Gabriel asked, not finding the comfort he thought the story was leading up to.