The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Everyone had appeared quite normal when we crossed through the timedoor last year,” Emma said as she served her guests hot coffee and pastries at one of the restaurant tables. Smoky tinted mirrors and large leafy plants scattered throughout the dining area gently reflected the glow of ceiling lights tucked among wooden rafters. “How could Belthasar have gotten through?”

  “And how do we stop him?” Mr. Smithers added.

  They discussed contacting the police, but that possibility seemed unrealistic. Such a fantastic story would get them laughed out of the station. And as for revealing the existence of the timedoor to back up their claim? They agreed that such an action was out of the question. The chaos that might ensue while Belthasar had access to either world was frighteningly apparent. But the pandemonium that would result if the world knew of the existence of the timedoor was unimaginable.

  Tracking down Belthasar themselves seemed equally daunting since he was a well-protected celebrity. In an instant he could shift to another host if he got the slightest bit suspicious that someone was after him. Until they developed a sensible plan to trap him, Mr. Jordan and Mr. Smithers concluded that they might have to leave him alone. Christopher, Molly, Emma and Mrs. Jordan reluctantly agreed, though nobody was happy about it. They drank coffee and ate pastries in silence. But food, for the moment, was as tasteless as cardboard.

  The remaining days of summer wandered aimlessly from one outdoor barbecue to the next, and from pitcher after pitcher of chilled lemonade and raspberry iced tea. From numerous trips to the library where armloads of books were plucked from metal shelves, to backyard hammocks where they were breathlessly absorbed page by precious page. And from thunderstorms and humid mornings to twilight gatherings on front porches, where pyrotechnic displays of skittish lightning bugs were viewed under the shady boughs of maple and pine.

  But in all that time, Belthasar never showed himself.

  Soon yellow school buses took to the roads and trees burst into flaming shades of orange and purple and gold. Temperatures dipped as days darkened and footballs sailed in perfect spirals against slate gray skies. Ghosts and goblins wandered through streets as jack-o-lanterns glowed on front porch steps. Veterans saluted in local parks as flags proudly snapped under a crisp autumn sky.

  And still Belthasar remained hidden.

  In time, families gathered to say grace and swap memories around tables laden with roasted turkey, fresh cranberries and warm pumpkin pie. Pine trees glittered with tinsel and lights while Christmas carols resonated from churches and shops. And powdery bursts of snowflakes swirled through the air with icy delight.

  Yet Belthasar was nowhere to be found. Still, his loathsome existence was felt by the Jordan family every minute of every day, sometimes like an irritating buzz of a pesky mosquito hovering near an ear, other times like the overwhelming presence of the proverbial elephant standing center stage in the tiniest of rooms. He was always there.

  Mr. and Mrs. Jordan relaxed on the couch the day after Christmas, enjoying some hot peppermint tea in front of the fireplace. It was seven-thirty in the evening. Shouts of success periodically erupted from the adjacent dining room as Christopher and Molly combated each other in a game of Battleship. Vergil had positioned himself upside down on an overstuffed recliner next to the Christmas tree by the front picture window, his feet propped against the headrest as he glanced through a booklet that came with his package of modeling clay. A dozen possibilities for his first project swam in his head like a school of frenzied fish. Magic lay in the corner of the room, munching on a bone-shaped dog treat, wagging his tail with furious contentment, oblivious to all else.

  “Hasn’t the blood rushed to your head yet?” Mr. Jordan asked his son.

  Vergil opened his upside down eyes extra wide to see his father better. “Not yet, Dad. I’m still deciding what to make with my clay.”

  “That’s fine,” his mother said, standing to refill their mugs with tea. “But when you get to the actual building phase, your operation gets transferred to the kitchen table.”

  “Okey-dokey,” he mumbled, flipping a page.

  Mrs. Jordan headed to the kitchen and then paused when her eye caught sight of the ceramic Nativity scene displayed on a small table near the Christmas tree. She glanced at her son with a suspicious eye.

  “Vergil, why is your Extraterrestrial Amphibian Android between the Three Wisemen and the kneeling shepherd? I don’t recall him being at the first Christmas.”

  “Mom, I need a place to keep him until Dad finishes building his secret hideout. It’s spread all over the den floor in about a thousand pieces!” he replied with an exasperated sigh. “Frogatron has to have somewhere to hang out.”

  “I’ll have your web-footed robot’s hideout finished tomorrow,” his father promised.

  “In the meantime, could you find a more appropriate place for your action hero, sweetheart?” Mrs. Jordan kindly asked, staring directly into Vergil’s eyes so that he knew she meant business. “Perhaps Froggy can keep Magic company.”

  “It’s Frogatron, Mom!” he muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

  Vergil dropped the booklet, pulled himself onto the recliner and ended up kneeling on the cushion while facing the back of the chair. He glanced out the frosted picture window into the gentle darkness of December. The bare bony branches of two huge maple trees on the front lawn were dusted with snowflakes. Heavier clumps of snow still clung to the sagging pine boughs on the side of the lawn to his left. The curving stone walk leading to the front porch lay caked with snow, awash in the gentle glow of a lamppost planted among the glittering snow banks rolling across the front lawn.

  Vergil prepared to hop off the chair when he quickly did a double take. He craned his head closer to the frosted pane, standing on his tiptoes as he gazed hypnotically into the wintry evening landscape. A sudden night breeze blew a confetti-like burst of snowflakes in front of his eyes. Vergil’s jaw dropped as he turned to his father.

  “Santa’s only supposed to stop here once a year, right, Dad?”

  “That’s the rule, Verg, no matter how good you claimed to have been in your three-page letter to the North Pole.”

  “Why do you ask?” Mrs. Jordan inquired as she reentered the room with two mugs steaming with fresh peppermint tea.

  Vergil placed his hands to his hips and scrunched his face. “Because Santa’s walking right up to our house this very minute!”

  Vergil stared out the window again, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. But he couldn’t deny what he saw. An older gentleman wrapped snuggly in the folds of a thick gray cloak with a beard trailing down to his waist trudged slowly up the front walk toward the porch. Though he was bathed in the light of the lamppost, the hood of his garment was draped over his head and concealed most of his facial features. The snow squeaked under the heavy steps of his large black boots.

  Mrs. Jordan set the mugs down and joined her son at the window. Mr. Jordan walked up behind them and together the trio gazed into the night. An instant later, Mr. and Mrs. Jordan looked at each other and smiled with a mix of joy and relief.

  “That’s not Santa Claus,” Mr. Jordan assured his son as the echo of footsteps sounded on the front porch.

  “Then who is it?” he curiously asked as the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it!” Molly shouted from the dining room. She raced for the hallway door.

  “Not if I beat you to it!” Christopher challenged, chasing after her.

  “I better put on some more tea!” Mrs. Jordan said.

  “For who?” Vergil exclaimed, marching in place on the chair cushion.

  Mr. Jordan picked up his son. “Haven’t you already guessed? It’s–”

  “Artemas!” Christopher and Molly cried out in unison from the other room. “Are we glad to see you!” they added as they dragged him into the living room after he hurriedly removed his boots.

  “Oh, him!” Vergil shouted with a grin. “Arty Mouse!”

&n
bsp; “The one and only,” Artemas replied, delighted to see his friends again. “I hope I haven’t arrived at an inconvenient time.” He glanced at the snowmen and angels and holly decorations strewn about the house, particularly pleased with the colorful glow and sparkle of the Christmas tree. Some of the miniature lights matched the ocean blue color of his eyes. “Not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “Not at all,” Mrs. Jordan said, greeting the magician with a hug.

  “And it is quite a convenient time,” Mr. Jordan added with a firm handshake. “We were relaxing from our usual hectic Christmas yesterday. It wore us all out.”

  “I can imagine,” the magician replied, eyeing with bewilderment the piles of opened presents under the tree and in various corners of the room. “First it was carved pumpkins with candles in them, and now a pine tree in the middle of your house adorned with lights. I noticed them all over town. Quite beautiful. But I’ll definitely have to research your holidays while I’m here on vacation!”

  They sat in front of the fireplace after Mrs. Jordan brought out a tray of sliced cranberry-walnut bread and spreads to have with their tea. The Jordans were thrilled that Artemas wanted to remain in their world until the timedoor reopened in approximately eight days. The third and final opening would occur just over a week after that. Mr. Jordan invited him to spend his vacation at the house. Artemas agreed, but insisted that before his vacation started, there was something he must do. From one of the deep pockets in his cloak, he pulled out a folded note sealed with candle drippings.

  “This message is from Queen Eleanor who asked me to deliver it to her sister Emma as soon as I arrived here,” Artemas explained. “Do you know where she is?”

  “She and Mr. Smithers reopened the diner near the timedoor,” Molly said. “It’s a really nice restaurant now and they live in the apartment above it.”

  “I hadn’t noticed any lights in the downstairs windows when I passed by a short while ago.”

  Christopher grabbed a slice of bread and slathered it with cream cheese. “They closed the place for Christmas and New Years.”

  “But they should be home upstairs,” Mrs. Jordan added. “I can give them a call. And, Christopher, don’t get crumbs over the rug.”

  “That would be wonderful. I need to speak with Emma before the timedoor closes.” He held up the note. “I believe Queen Eleanor wants her to stop by for a visit between openings. It’s been nearly a year since the two sisters have spoken to each other.”

  Molly did some quick calculating in her head. “It’s been over a year, Artemas. More than thirteen months, in fact.”

  Artemas took a sip of tea and smiled over his mug adorned with candy canes and wreaths. “I was referring to the Endoran calendar, Molly.”

  “Oh, I forgot. Your day and year are longer than ours.”

  “How’s the weather in your neck of the woods?” Mr. Jordan asked.

  “Quite lovely. We’re approaching the end of winter and eagerly await the return of spring and the start of another year.”

  “Your year starts on the first day of spring?” Molly inquired. Artemas nodded. “Ours starts in less than a week, right in the middle of all this cold weather. Maybe we should trade, then staying up until midnight outside wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Artemas shrugged. “Why would you want to stay up until midnight in the cold?”

  “Long story,” Mr. Jordan said. “We should get Queen Eleanor’s note delivered before the timedoor closes.”

  “The timedoor opened at seven o’clock and will close at ten,” Artemas said, glancing at a clock on the wall that read seven-thirty. “So that gives us two and a half hours to take Emma back. I’m sure she and Queen Eleanor have much to talk about since they last met.”

  “As do we,” Mrs. Jordan said, her tone now somber and edgy.

  Artemas noted the sudden change of expression on all their faces and tugged at his beard. “What’s going on? Is something the matter?”

  “More like someone is the matter,” Christopher muttered.

  Artemas wrinkled his brow. “I don’t quite understand. Someone?”

  “We have disturbing news to reveal,” Molly whispered. She was sitting on the floor leaning against Christopher’s chair, her arms folded across her chest. “Some deeply disturbing news. Part of a great mystery has been solved.”

  “Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” her brother grumbled. “Getting those Sherlock Holmes mystery stories for Christmas doesn’t make you a great detective.”

  “I’ll be as dramatic as I want to, Mr. Dry-as-three-day-old-toast. And that’s without butter, brother!”

  Christopher playfully punched Molly in the arm. “You’re deeply disturbed!”

  “Ooowww!” she moaned in exaggerated pain, rolling onto the carpet. “Mother, please lock up your son in his cage for the night. I think it’s past his bedtime.”

  “Would you two delinquents behave,” Mr. Jordan said, apologizing to Artemas with a roll of his eyes. “We have some serious business to discuss.”

  “Your father is right,” Mrs. Jordan said. “Belthasar is no joking matter.”

  Artemas snapped his head up, stone silent for a moment as he carefully set his tea mug down upon the coffee table. “You have news of Belthasar?”

  Instantly the living room walls seemed to close in upon them when hearing the deadly concern in the magician’s voice. The house was so silent that the gentle ticking of the wall clock echoed in their ears. Artemas leaned back on the couch and sighed.

  “We believe we’ve located him,” Mr. Jordan said.

  Artemas was flabbergasted by the information. His eyes bored invisible holes into the rug before he finally looked up moments later. “Tell me everything you know!”

  Artemas’ shoulders slumped and the color drained out of his face as he absorbed the details of Belthasar’s current whereabouts. Though the mystery of his disappearance after he had escaped from the cat in Endora was never explained, Artemas had hoped that Belthasar had simply vanished for good. But the chill in the magician’s heart convinced him otherwise. Belthasar’s evil spirit had survived, and now it infected the world of his dear friends. Artemas knew he had no one to blame but himself. If he had never created the timedoor, none of this would be happening. But now wasn’t the time to wallow in self-pity. Something had to be done–and soon.

  “There’s not a moment to waste!” Artemas said with a clap of his hands, rousing himself from his drifting thoughts. “I must deliver this note to Emma, escort her to Endora to visit the queen, and then return at once. Belthasar must be dealt with posthaste!”

  Mr. Jordan offered to drive Artemas to the restaurant, with Christopher and Molly insisting on tagging along, both hoping for a brief visit to Endora. Their father decided to indulge them, wishing to have a second look at King Rupert’s castle as well.

  “Too bad we couldn’t stay there until the second opening,” Molly suggested. “It’s Christmas break after all. We wouldn’t have to worry about missing school this time.”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Artemas said. “Belthasar is in your world, so this is where we must plan our next move–whatever that is.” He scratched his head and sighed. “Oh well. It seems my vacation has suddenly turned into a working vacation. And I had so wanted to catch up on my sleep!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Budding Romance

  “I must pack at once!” Emma gushed with exuberance after reading the elegant handwritten note from her sister. “How is she, Artemas? I’ve missed her terribly.”

  “She and King Rupert are doing splendidly,” he informed her. All were gathered in the Smithers’ apartment living room above the restaurant. Christmas tree lights reflected off shelves of ceramic knickknacks that Emma had collected over the last year. A large aquarium against a side wall glowed a subtle emerald green as handfuls of goldfish maneuvered around miniature sunken treasure chests, plastic frogs and swaying fingers of dark seaweed. “Queen Eleanor can’t wait to see you again.”

/>   “And I can’t wait to see her!”

  “Emma hoped you’d return, Artemas, as if she could sense your arrival,” Mr. Smithers said. “She was convinced that the timedoor would open soon.”

  “Her being on this side helped me to create another one sooner than usual,” Artemas admitted. “In addition, I learned a few more things about magic timedoors after King Rupert’s sword and crown were stranded here.”

  “Oh?” Mr. Jordan asked. “What’d you discover?”

  “My calculations aren’t complete, but I think I’ll be able to create a timedoor to this world without an object from Endora remaining behind. Or a person,” he said, glancing at Emma with a smile. “It’s still a learning process.”

  “That’s great!” Christopher said. “The easier it is for you to open a timedoor, the more often we can visit.”

  Emma nodded. “Great news indeed! I so miss Endora, most especially those early morning conversations with my sister over hot raspberry tea,” she replied with a distant smile. “Eleanor will hardly recognize me in my new outfit!” She wore a pair of blue jeans and a pullover sweater patterned with pinecones and snowflakes over a pink blouse. A silk poinsettia blossom was affixed in her long auburn hair. “I’ll pack some of my old clothes or people will stare.”

  “Christopher and I know that feeling,” Molly said.

  “Then you can help me pack, Molly. I brought a few outfits from home that haven’t seen the light of day since I arrived here,” she explained, gleefully waving Queen Eleanor’s letter in the air while leading the way down a narrow hall to the back bedroom. “Stanley, my dear, we’ll be ready in the blink of an eye!”

  “A jackrabbit’s eye and not a turtle’s!” his voice echoed from the living room.