The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “And who are you!” she demanded to know, getting to her feet.

  “Why, Wendell the Wacky Wizard, of course. Sorry I’m late, but I had a flat tire on the way and left my cell phone at home.” He looked at the bedlam around the flattened card table. “Uh, what’s going on here? This is the library Halloween party, isn’t it?”

  “I thought it was at one time,” she sighed. Miss Mayfield slapped the blob of candy corn into Wendell’s hand and then pulled Artemas aside away from the hysterical children. “Your name’s not Wendell?” she sternly asked.

  “Certainly not. It’s Artemas. And he’s no wizard,” the magician said under his breath, pointing to the real Wendell. “Just look at that ridiculous outfit he’s wearing.”

  “Then why are you performing magic tricks at my party?”

  “Because, ma’am, you dragged me in here without listening to a word I had to say.” Suddenly Artemas smiled. “But my performance was a hit, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yes it was…” she replied with a hint of a smile too, gazing into his ocean blue eyes. Then she scowled as the commotion continued unabated, signaling for one of the mothers to attend to the real Wendell while she hustled Artemas out of the room and back into the main section of the library. “That was quite a commotion you caused in there,” she continued when they were alone near the encyclopedias.

  “Simply stunning!” Artemas admitted, sensing that Miss Mayfield wasn’t as angry with him as she pretended.

  “I usually run a tight ship in my library, and peace and quiet is the number one rule. And though I make exceptions for holidays and special programs, well you, Mr. Artemas, just…”

  “…bent that rule a bit too much perhaps?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, brushing back her light brown hair and adjusting her glasses, pretending not to notice Artemas grinning at her. “Anyway, just–just don’t let it happen again.”

  “Of course not,” he replied, shaking his head with feigned seriousness. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Very well. Now that we understand each other,” she continued, “why exactly did you stop by my library?”

  “To locate the Jordan family. They’re very dear friends of mine.”

  Artemas quickly explained the situation to a sympathetic Miss Mayfield who felt that there should be no trouble finding them. She hurried over to one of the computer terminals and sat down as Artemas eagerly watched her go to work.

  “A few clicks of the mouse should tell us if they’re still in the area.”

  “A mouse, you say?”

  “You don’t use a computer much, do you, Mr. Artemas.”

  “I’m afraid they’re not readily available where I come from.”

  “And where exactly is that?” she casually asked. “Where have you been for the last four years?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said uncomfortably. “I don’t think I should, um… Say, what are all those numbers you’re typing?”

  “The zip code for this city. And another click here and–ta-da! There are your friends.”

  “Where?”

  Miss Mayfield pointed to the Jordan family address on the computer screen. “They are still living here in town. Only five blocks from the library as a matter of fact. On Maple Street.”

  “That’s a relief to know. I must talk to them at once. It’s very urgent.”

  Miss Mayfield grew more curious by the minute about Artemas’ dealings with the Jordan family and was still mesmerized by his ability to perform such magical tricks with so little effort. But she noted how troubled and anxious he appeared again just as he had the moment he walked into the library. She decided not to press him about his personal business and offered only to help as best she could.

  “I’ll draw a map for you, Mr. Artemas, and you’ll have no trouble finding their address.”

  A few moments later, she handed Artemas a scrap of paper with several lines in blue ink sketched out and neatly labeled with street names. She showed Artemas the direction to start in and traced his path to Maple Street.

  “You have beautiful handwriting, Miss Mayfield. Quite elegant to be sure.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Artemas,” she said, once again lost in his eyes and trying not to blush. “But please, call me Mina.”

  “Only if you call me Artemas.”

  “Of course,” she smiled.

  “Well, I’d better be on my way then.”

  “If you must…” she dreamily uttered until the ringing of the telephone brought her back to her senses. “I mean, then you must! You’d better be off and attend to whatever matters need–uh–attending to.”

  “Thanks ever so much.”

  “If there’s anything I can do for you again, don’t hesitate to stop by. We’re open every day except Sunday. No appointment necessary.”

  “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer, Mina. A pleasure meeting you, but now I must be off. Goodnight.”

  Artemas walked to the exit as Miss Mayfield hurried behind the main desk to answer the telephone. She picked up the receiver and began speaking as Artemas opened the front door and stepped outside, but not before offering a goodbye wave and a smile to Miss Mayfield. She waved back and sadly watched him disappear into the inky darkness.

  Artemas found the correct house on Maple Street without a hitch. He studied the stone house set back on a large front lawn with two enormous maple trees standing guard. They had shed some of their leaves which had been raked into mountainous piles along the curb. A lamppost glowed softly along a stone pathway leading to the front porch, where again, a trio of glowing jack-o-lanterns awaited Artemas.

  “I can’t imagine why these people place flaming candles inside huge orange squashes,” he muttered as he climbed three steps onto the porch.

  Artemas knocked gently on the door and a porch light popped on. A moment later the door opened and Mrs. Jordan poked her head out.

  “I’m sorry, but trick-or-treating hours ended at seven-thirty,” she said. “Besides, we’ve run out of candy. The crowds were especially large tonight.”

  “I’m not here to procure any candy,” Artemas replied. “I’m here to see you.”

  “Well, if you’re trying to sell something or collect for–”

  Then Mrs. Jordan stopped speaking and stared at Artemas as if a long lost memory was slowly reawaking in her mind. She again knew his face, his eyes and that comforting smile. The past flooded back like a raging river. She opened her mouth to speak but could say nothing for several moments.

  “Honey, who are you talking to?” a voice called from inside.

  Mr. Jordan walked up behind his wife and opened the door wider and saw Artemas standing there like an ancient dream. His jaw dropped as he instantly recognized his old friend.

  “Good evening, Sam,” Artemas said as if he had spoken to him just the other day. “How are things at the museum?”

  “How–how–” Mr. Jordan scratched his head. “How did you get here, Artemas? I thought that timedoors…”

  “So did I, Sam.” Artemas shrugged. “Things I once thought to be true have been turned upside down, and so, here I am. I’ll explain everything.”

  “Please do,” Mrs. Jordan said, signaling for him to come inside. “We’ll put on some water for tea, Artemas, and you can explain away.”

  “Artemas?”

  More voices could be heard from inside, and then the rush of footsteps toward the front door. Two people tried to squeeze between Mr. and Mrs. Jordan to get a close up look at the Halloween visitor, and soon Artemas was face to face with two older children who looked not quite familiar, yet again, amazingly so.

  “My, my,” Artemas whispered, staring with fondness and relief at Christopher and Molly Jordan who both smiled back at him with equal affection. “You were running for your lives the last time I saw you four long years ago. I’m delighted you made it safely back home.”

  “By the skin of our teeth,” Christopher said, now fifteen and nearly as tall as his fat
her.

  “What? No more pigtails?” Artemas asked Molly as she grinned like one of the carved pumpkins.

  “I’m twelve years old now, Artemas. I’ve outgrown pigtails long ago.”

  “Oh, I see,” he said in mock seriousness, looking around at the new house and his old friends. “I see a lot of things have changed since I last visited your world. You’ll have to update me about even the tiniest details.”

  “And you’ll have to tell us how and why you’re back,” Mr. Jordan said.

  “Now that is an interesting story,” he replied as the Jordan family led him into the house for a cup of tea. “I hope you can spare a few hours.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  More Trouble with Time

  Flames crackled in brilliant shades of autumn as Artemas and the Jordan family gathered around the living room fireplace to catch up on old times. Mrs. Jordan had brought in a tray loaded with ceramic mugs, a plate of iced ginger cookies and a pot of steaming cinnamon tea. The lights were down low and the room warm and cozy as everyone peppered Artemas with question after question. How did the timedoor reopen to this world? What’s life like in Endora these days? Can we go back?

  “One at a time please!” he said. “One at a time. I promise to answer each and every question. After all, the timedoor won’t reopen for another six days. But first, I have a few questions of my own if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Jordan said, pouring tea into his cup. “You’re our guest after all, Artemas. You start.”

  The magician relaxed in a chair on one side of the fireplace and looked around the room, delighted to see his old friends again. Mr. and Mrs. Jordan sat together on the couch with Vergil scrunched between them munching on a cookie. Molly lay on the floor on her stomach, still dressed in a fortune teller Halloween costume, resting her chin on her folded arms. Christopher, wearing sweatpants and a baseball jersey, lounged in a chair opposite Artemas, almost unable to believe that he had returned from Endora.

  “What I really want to know is what happened after you children ran through the timedoor with Belthasar in pursuit. King Rupert, I and the others have been worried sick for four years, thinking of all the terrible things that may have happened to you or your world.” Artemas gently smiled. “But seeing you both here in perfect health, I assume everything turned out all right in the end.”

  Christopher explained how Belthasar wasn’t quick enough to get out of the timedoor before it closed. He slapped his hands together so hard that they stung, startling Vergil. “That’s how the timedoor sounded when it closed, Artemas. Even louder. Belthasar never had a chance.”

  “Oh my. How unfortunate for him, yet lucky for the rest of us.” He tugged at his beard. “I can’t imagine an ending like that, but if anyone deserved such a fate…”

  “But how did you reopen the timedoor to our world?” Molly asked sitting up. “I thought you said that once a timedoor opens and closes three times to a particular world, it can never open up to that place again.”

  “And so I did, young lady. So I did. But something happened this time that had never happened before. It took me quite a while to figure out too,” he admitted.

  “Tell us,” Mr. Jordan said, much intrigued.

  “Well, to put it quite simply–”

  “Who is this guy?” Vergil blurted out, pointing at Artemas while looking to his parents for an answer. “How do you know him?”

  “That’s Artemas!” Christopher said, picking up his brother off the couch and sitting down in the chair with him. “Remember all those adventure stories I’d tell you at bedtime about the secret land of Endora?”

  “With the trolls and goblins and the King Rupert and the Queen Eleanor?”

  Molly grinned. “Especially the King Rupert and the Queen Eleanor.”

  “And who was the great magician you were so fond of, Vergil?” asked Christopher. “He was the one always amazing us with magic and getting us out of trouble at the last moment.”

  “You mean Arty Mouse?”

  Christopher and Molly giggled and Vergil joined in the laughter. “Verg always called you Arty Mouse,” he informed the magician. He looked at his little brother and pointed to Artemas. “Vergil, that’s the real Artemas. The real Arty Mouse.”

  Vergil stared wide-eyed at the magician and gasped. “He doesn’t gots any trolls with him, does he?”

  Artemas chuckled. “No, Vergil. I don’t have any trolls with me. No need to concern yourselves about them anymore. They fled back to the mountains years ago.”

  “Good thing, because they’re bad. I don’t want any here ‘cause they’d probably eat my Halloween candy. Right, Chris?”

  “Not a chance, Verg! You’re safe with us. I don’t think we have to worry about goblins, trolls or Belthasar ever again.”

  Molly pressed on. “So how’d you get here, Artemas? I thought we’d never see you or Endora again.”

  “I’ll tell you. Quite an amusing story once I figured things out,” he replied, sipping his tea and setting the cup on the coffee table. “Several months passed before conditions were ripe to create another timedoor, and when I finally did, it only lasted a few minutes. Luckily I hadn’t walked through it yet, for it never reopened.”

  “Never?” Mrs. Jordan asked. “What about the three-times rule?”

  “My thought exactly. The new timedoor had barely opened once and I couldn’t understand why. I had cast my spells correctly and the astronomical conditions were especially suited to create one.” Artemas scratched his head. “I was at a loss, so I tried again a month later. Conditions were still favorable and this time the door appeared as it should. Shrugging off my previous failed attempt, I decided to walk through it to see where it led and ended up on the edge of a great forest where the trees grew as high as some of your skyscrapers. Incredibly beautiful and fascinating.”

  “Did you stay there?” Mr. Jordan wanted to know.

  “Oh no. I returned in about an hour to my chamber and waited for the timedoor to close. It did, right on schedule.”

  Molly slid along the carpet and sat against the couch, grabbing a cookie from the plate. “So what was the problem, Artemas?”

  “Well, several days later the timedoor reopened for the second time, just as it should have. So I entered, eager again to wander through that amazing forest on the other side.” Artemas arched his brow. “Only this time the forest had disappeared.”

  Vergil gasped. “Where did the trees go?”

  “Maybe I should clarify that,” he said. “The forest hadn’t actually disappeared, it’s just that the timedoor had reopened somewhere else. I was now standing on the edge of a rocky plain at sunset, with a brisk wind blowing and a herd of wild horses running like wildfire across the horizon. Another wonderful sight to be sure, but I couldn’t understand how the timedoor had opened there. Something was seriously wrong, so I hurried back to my chamber for further study.”

  Christopher looked up like a puppy begging for a snack. “And you came to the conclusion that…?”

  “I came to no conclusions at that point, Christopher. It was very frustrating indeed. Even after the timedoor reopened and closed on time for the third and last time–ending up in some dreadful mosquito-infested swamp, by the way–I still had no clue as to why it wasn’t working. Either the timedoor wouldn’t form properly as in the first case, or when it did, it would shift from place to place, breaking the three-times rule, which has never happened!” Artemas shrugged his shoulders. “I was stumped, thinking about it until my head nearly burst. Other timedoors I later created resulted in the same problem. I was quite disheartened until one afternoon I happened to be chatting with Queen Eleanor. Then it all made sense!”

  Mrs. Jordan sat on the edge of the couch, clasping her hands as if praying. “So you discovered the problem! What was it?”

  “What had happened was–”

  Suddenly Artemas jumped up, hearing a noise from another room. “Someone else is in the house!” he whispered, scanning
the room like an eagle targeting its prey. Then he noticed that none of the others showed the least bit of concern, so he sat back down with a puzzled expression.

  “That’s only Magic,” Christopher said.

  “Magic? I don’t understand.”

  “He was taking a nap in the back room,” Molly explained. “He got tired from running back and forth to the hallway every time a trick-or-treater rang the doorbell.”

  “Come here, boy!” Mr. Jordan called.

  Instantly a large beige and gray dog bounded into the room, running up to Mr. Jordan who showered him with affection. Magic rested a paw on his knee and wagged his tail like a kite in a wild wind. Lustrous traces of gold were woven up and down his coat and behind his ears. Then Magic sensed Artemas’ presence and turned around, fixing his suspicious eyes upon the magician. He growled and leaned forward as if ready to pounce.

  “That’s Magic,” Christopher said. “We got him shortly after we moved into our new house.”

  “I like his name, but I fear he doesn’t like me,” Artemas said.

  “He’s not quite sure who you are yet,” Molly replied. “But he’ll get used to you in no time.” She quickly grabbed a cookie from the plate, broke it in half and tossed a piece to Artemas. “Here, offer him a treat, then he’ll like you for sure.”

  “You shouldn’t be feeding him cookies, Molly,” her mother said.

  “A little piece won’t hurt. Magic eats practically anything.”

  “Here, Magic,” Artemas said, gingerly offering him the cookie half. The dog immediately stopped growling and walked over to the magician, sniffed the treat and then snapped it up and ate it. He wagged his tail and repeatedly licked his nose with his tongue, waiting for more. “That’s all for now,” Artemas said, petting Magic on the head. “Maybe later.”

  “Come here, Magic!” The dog ran over to Molly and curled up on the floor next to her. “See, he likes you already, Artemas. Magic’s a good dog. He’s a Wheaten Terrier.”