The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “A fine specimen indeed.”

  “We had you in mind when we named him,” Christopher said. “We thought Magic would be the perfect name.”

  “I’m flattered,” he replied. “I think.”

  “So continue with your story,” Molly said as she petted Magic. “You mentioned you had figured out what went wrong with the timedoor.”

  “I had, and it was quite simple really, assuming my theory is correct.”

  Mr. Jordan, who had been munching on a cookie, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean assuming it is correct?”

  “Well, this latest timedoor has only opened once so far, happily to your world as I had hoped,” he said. “However, because I took so much time in finding out where you lived, it has since closed.” He glanced at a clock on the mantle. “I estimate at about eight-thirty your time. So I won’t know if my theory is correct until the timedoor reopens in about six days.”

  Christopher sat up straight in his chair. “You mean it could reopen from your chamber in Endora and lead to somewhere else instead of here?”

  “Possibly, but highly unlikely. I think I figured out the problem, so there’ll be no more shifting timedoors to worry about.”

  “If your theory isn’t correct, you’ll be trapped here forever, Artemas.” Molly scratched Magic behind his ears, sounding quite concerned. “If that happens, you’ll lose all your powers and then you’d never be able to create another timedoor. You took quite a chance visiting us on the first try.”

  “Just one of the risks of being a magician who’s fond of creating timedoors.” Artemas flicked his hand as if none of those matters bothered him in the least. “But like I said, I’m ninety-nine percent certain I’ve discovered the cause of the problem.”

  “It’s that one percent I’d worry about,” Mr. Jordan muttered, finishing his cookie.

  “Now have some faith in Artemas,” Mrs. Jordan said, refilling her husband’s mug with tea. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.” She walked over to refill Artemas’ cup, looked him squarely in the eyes and smiled. “Now before your story takes another diversion to amazing forests, noises in the back room or uncertain theories, tell us why the timedoor reopened to our world.” She set the teapot back on the tray, sat on the couch and nodded. “Go ahead now.”

  Artemas returned a smile. “As I said, it was all so simple when taking the time to think about it. After visiting your world four years ago with King Rupert, I had done something here that I had never done in all of my timedoor travels. Something that affected the behavior of future timedoors.”

  “What did you do?” Mrs. Jordan whispered.

  “Not me specifically, but King Rupert.” Artemas shook his head and sprouted a crooked grin. “He had left his sword and crown in your world. Silly King!”

  “How did that goof things up with the timedoor?” Molly asked.

  “I believe that simple action created a link between our two worlds, even after the timedoor had closed for the last time,” Artemas explained. “Ever since then, any timedoor I created either failed to materialize because it couldn’t reconnect to your world, or it shifted from world to world trying to reestablish that link. This current timedoor has found your world again, so I believe it’ll open and close three times to this place just as it should. We’ll test that theory in six days.”

  “What did Queen Eleanor say that caused you to discover the problem?” Mrs. Jordan asked.

  “She had been contemplating what gift to get for her beloved King Rupert. You see, they’ll be celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary shortly and she wanted to give him a special gift to mark their glorious years together,” he said. “She had asked me what I thought about having a new sword and crown made for her husband. King Rupert terribly missed the ones he left in your world, but was reluctant to replace them. Queen Eleanor thought their anniversary would be the appropriate time to do so. When she asked for my opinion, I did all I could to keep from hugging her in glee. There was the answer I had been looking for all along!”

  “Intriguing,” Mr. Jordan said, helping himself to another cookie.

  “So the next time I created a timedoor, I altered my calculations and spells accordingly, believing the timedoor was trying to reconnect to your world. I had never done such a thing before, assuming a new timedoor could never reopen to an old world.” Artemas laughed out loud, causing Magic to jump to his feet and stare at him in wonderment. “I guess that theory is out the chimney.”

  “I believe you mean out the window,” Mr. Jordan said.

  “Door, window, chimney… Whatever.”

  “That means you could create as many timedoors to our world as you want!” Christopher shouted.

  “I suppose I could,” Artemas said.

  Molly jumped up like a cheerleader. “That would be wonderful! We could visit Endora all the time.” She looked at her parents like a child on Christmas morning. “You both have to see Endora. I’m sure it’s a lot nicer without the trolls and goblins hanging around.”

  “I would like that,” Mrs. Jordan said. “What a wonderful vacation it would be.”

  “I would love to have you all visit,” Artemas said. “But I must temper your enthusiasm just a bit. Though I believe I will be able to create other timedoors to your world, I cannot do it whenever I want. Conditions have to be just right. Sometimes several months go by before I can create another one. On rare occasions a year or two, or even three have passed before conditions were ideal.”

  “We won’t pack our bags just yet,” Mr. Jordan said. “But I wouldn’t rule out at least one visit. That’ll be the trip of a lifetime!”

  The following Saturday blossomed into an ideal Indian summer day. Bright sunshine and warm temperatures prompted Mr. Jordan to unwrap the barbecue, and Artemas was treated to a picnic in the backyard under a large maple tree. Pepper burgers and giant mushroom caps sizzled on the grill as Mrs. Jordan stirred up pitchers of fresh lemonade and apple cider. Christopher and Vergil chased each other across the lawn, running through piles of leaves and tackling one another like football players, sending up showers of red, yellow and orange that drifted back to earth like sun-drenched confetti. Molly gave Magic a bath with the hose at the top of the driveway, jumping back like a startled grasshopper every time the soap-sudsy dog shook himself off with a fury. A trail of water flowed down the driveway like a wavy snake, carrying soap bubbles and dead bugs to a nearby sewer in the street.

  While Mr. Jordan tended to the barbecue for a moment, Artemas sat at the picnic table and soaked in the warm sun and the family activities, glad to be back in the Jordans’ world for a while. They had invited him to spend the week in their home, which he gladly accepted. What a nice respite this mini vacation was from all his duties at the castle, refreshing his mind and reinvigorating his spirit. Artemas felt young again. He now understood the Jordan family’s desire to visit Endora.

  During dinner, the magician answered more of their questions about the goings-on in and around Endora during the last four years. The inquiries were non-stop.

  “And what about Malaban’s fortress?” Christopher asked. “What happened there after he returned with his soldiers?”

  “Much has happened. Fortunately for the good,” he explained, munching on a juicy burger loaded with tomatoes, pickles and mustard. “My, but these pepper burgers are delicious! Maybe I could take one of those barbecue contraptions back to Endora.”

  “Malaban’s fortress?” Molly said, prodding him on with a smirk.

  “Ah yes. Believe it or not, Malaban turned over the reigns of power to King Alexander just as he had promised. Malaban had sent out several teams of scouts to comb the surrounding lands, eventually locating King Alexander and his only son, Jeremiah. They had taken refuge along the seacoast beyond the mountains,” he said. “King Alexander returned to his throne and again governed his people for a time. However, in this last year, old age and the toil of his exile has finally caught up with him. He has been in ill health these p
ast few months. It won’t be long before Prince Jeremiah takes his father’s place as king.”

  “What a bittersweet story,” Mrs. Jordan said. “Whatever became of Malaban?”

  “He exiled himself, vowing never to return because of the evil he had wrought. King Alexander offered to let him stay in the kingdom because of the good he had done in the end, but Malaban refused.”

  “That was probably for the best,” Mr. Jordan said. “At least he showed a little honor by paying for his crimes.”

  “A good thing indeed, but not the only good thing to come out of that sorry mess,” Artemas said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Molly.

  “There was much travel between the two kingdoms once matters were back to normal. And during some of those official visits on state business, Princess Rosalind and Prince Jeremiah met several times and got the chance to know each other.” Artemas smiled as if Rosalind were his own daughter. “I’m happy to say that the two are engaged to be married this summer.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Molly exclaimed. “I bet she’ll be the most beautiful bride in the whole world.”

  “Because you certainly won’t be!” Christopher joked, lightly punching Molly in the arm.

  “Oh, you better call a doctor before I laugh myself to death on that joke,” she dryly replied.

  “Ignore the two comedians,” Mr. Jordan said, “and tell us what else is happening. How is Mr. Smithers doing?”

  “Quite well actually. He has taken to his job in the King’s guard like a tree to sunshine. It’s done him a world of good. And our meals around the castle have never tasted better since he supplied our cooks with a few of his secret recipes.”

  “I can’t wait to see him again,” Molly said. “And Princess Rosalind, too! We are going back, aren’t we, Dad?”

  “I can’t say that I don’t want to jump at the chance, but there are many things to take into consideration first.”

  “Like your job for one,” Mrs. Jordan pointed out. “And school for another,” she sternly added, eyeing the children who immediately frowned. Then a huge smile burst onto her face. “But we’ll figure it out somehow. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, and I don’t want to miss it!”

  Artemas clapped his hands. “If you return with me this next time, it will be, well–perfect timing! King Rupert and Queen Eleanor have planned a lavish celebration for their thirtieth anniversary which will already be underway when the timedoor reopens. Everybody will be there–Princess Rosalind, Mr. Smithers and Ulric, of course. Even Prince Jeremiah plans to attend, though his father will most likely be too ill to make the trip. You must leave here on the second opening and return on the third, otherwise it could be months or longer before I can create another timedoor to your world. That will still give you several days to explore my world.”

  “Count us in!” Christopher said, imagining all the great times awaiting them in Endora.

  “And don’t forget to take King Rupert’s sword and crown this time!” Molly added.

  “Duly noted,” Artemas said. “Though if he hadn’t forgotten them the last time, I wouldn’t be here right now. By the way, where are they?” he asked Mr. Jordan, eager to see them again.

  “We’ve taken good care of such priceless items,” he said, signaling for all to follow him into another room.

  They walked to the back den, overflowing with books and wall paintings and large leafy plants. A small piano stood tucked away in one corner. An enormous picture window overlooked the yard, now bathed in the blackness of night. A chill autumn breeze brushed through the leaf piles scattered over the lawn. Mrs. Jordan turned up some of the lights and then Artemas saw the treasures and smiled. Off to one side of the window was a glass enclosed cabinet, and inside on the middle shelf rested King Rupert’s sword and crown, both as shiny and polished as the day they were forged by craftsmen in Endora.

  “The King will be so pleased to have them back,” he said, staring at the two objects through the glass. “You’ve shown him much honor and respect by taking such good care of his cherished possessions.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Mrs. Jordan said. “A bit of dusting now and then and a little polish. They still look as good as new, but they’ll look even better on the King.”

  Artemas nodded. “To be sure. I can’t wait to get them back to Endora where they belong. A king, after all, is not officially a king until he is presented with his sword and crown,” he explained. “And Endora’s King has been without his for far too long.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  An Uninvited Guest

  Mr. Smithers’ diner had been snow-frozen, sun-baked, wind-whipped and rain-pelted over the last four years. The doors and windows were boarded up and hardly a fleck of brown paint remained on the rotting clapboards. Weeds that grew wild during the spring and summer around the base of the building were now as brittle and lifeless as the diner itself. The remains of Mr. Smithers’ rusty green automobile had been towed away some time ago, and any memories of him had been forgotten by most.

  “It’s been quite a while since we’ve visited this neighborhood,” Mr. Jordan said as he parked his car behind the diner early that Monday evening. “And some things never change. This place is still a dump. A few swings of a wrecking ball–problem solved!”

  “Now, Sam, this was Mr. Smithers’ livelihood at one time,” his wife said. “Show a little tact, dear.”

  “I’m sure he’d be the first person to agree with me, Sally,” he said, winking to his children in the back seat.

  They piled out of the car into the night shadows. The sky was a field of diamonds and the air frosty and crisp. Magic scampered about the weedy lot as the others unloaded a few suitcases from the car trunk, prepared for a week’s stay in Endora.

  “This reminds me of the night we came here to look for Malaban in the caves,” Molly whispered. “I’ll never forget that as long as I live.”

  “You and Christopher acted bravely that day,” Artemas said, recalling the perilous time. “Who could have thought Malaban would help save us in the end?”

  “Let’s go,” Mr. Jordan said as he, Christopher and Artemas each grabbed a suitcase. The six trudged toward the river bridge with Magic trailing behind, sniffing the ground like a bloodhound while keeping an eye open for stray cats.

  Mr. Jordan had rearranged some of his vacation days at the museum so he could take this time off, telling co-workers he planned to take an archeological research trip abroad with his family and maybe someday write a book about it. Mrs. Jordan had packed a few of the children’s school books, insisting that all their time in Endora would not be for fun and games.

  “Prepare yourselves for a couple of tutoring sessions,” she explained to them before they left. “Remember, I taught school for several years before you kids were born, so I know how to give lots of homework and extremely difficult tests. Oh, it will be such fun!” she added, though even Vergil knew she wasn’t being completely serious.

  They hurried along the grassy river bank parallel to the road. The bridge ahead stretched across the water like a giant metal skeleton. Mr. Jordan flicked on a flashlight he carried in his jacket pocket and led them down a slight embankment to the stone support beneath the bridge. It was almost seven-thirty and the stone still appeared solid. Christopher lightly pounded his fist here and there to make sure.

  “According to my calculations, the timedoor should reopen at exactly seven-thirty your time,” Artemas said.

  “Assuming your theory is correct,” Mr. Jordan subtly reminded him.

  “Daddy, have a little faith.” Molly took the flashlight from her father and examined the wall more closely, then nearly gasped. “Holy cow…”

  “What is it?” Mrs. Jordan asked.

  “Look closer. I can still see part of the note Christopher scratched onto the wall four years ago.” Though time, weather and tiny patches of lichen had faded most of the words, bits and pieces of the message were still visible.

  Christopher ra
n a finger over the letters while Molly pointed the flashlight his way. He started to read the words as best he could. “…OLLOWED KIN RU RTEM DORA. …BAC MEDOOR PENS. ...OVE MOL AN RIS.”

  “What’d he say?” Vergil asked as he petted Magic. “Sounds like baby talk.”

  “You always were a good speller, Ris!” Molly snickered.

  “That’s a side splitter, Mol,” he replied with a grunt while continuing to examine the message. “Hey, even part of the arrow I drew is still here. Barely.” Christopher leaned against the stone where the arrow pointed, but the bridge support was as hard as steel. “Maybe your calculations are off just a bit, Artemas. It must be seven-thirty by now.”

  “My calculations are rarely off.”

  “Well, there’s always a first time. It’s possible that–aaahh!”

  Suddenly Christopher tipped sideways and yelped as half his body disappeared into the stone wall. Mr. Jordan lunged forward and grabbed his son’s left arm and pulled him back into their world. The timedoor had reopened like a soft whisper.

  “Ah! Exactly on time,” Artemas said, beaming with satisfaction. “Theory proved,” he added with a raised eyebrow to Mr. Jordan.

  “Are you all right, Chris?” his mother cried, pulling her son away from the timedoor. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Honest. Not a scratch. Just caught off guard.”

  Molly shined the light on the timedoor so everyone could see how part of the stone wall now appeared wispy and frail like a gray mist at dawn. She quickly stuck her other hand inside and pulled it out, excited and scared at the same time.

  “Amazing!” Mr. Jordan muttered. His wife nodded in agreement.

  “So quiet when it opens,” Christopher said. “Sounds like a thunder clap when it closes.”

  “Which it will do in approximately three hours,” Artemas told them. “Then this timedoor will open only once more in about seven and a half of your days. Just under six and a half of mine. That’s when your Endoran vacation must end, or else you’ll be stuck there for months at least before I can generate another timedoor to your world.”