The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  Molly giggled at Mr. Smithers’ joke as they walked into the bedroom. Emma made a beeline for the closet, grabbed a suitcase from inside and set it on the bed. She scoured through several dresser drawers for items to pack as Molly plopped down on a chair near the corner window.

  “Artemas says it’s almost springtime in Endora, so pack appropriately,” Molly suggested.

  “Then I guess I won’t need the heavy winter coat I received for Christmas,” Emma said. “I’ll certainly miss Stanley even though we’ll only be separated for a few days.”

  “He’s not going to stay in Endora with you?”

  “No. There’s too much work at the restaurant before we reopen for the new year. I feel guilty for leaving,” she said. “But he mentioned that I’d spend so much time with my sister that I’d probably forget he was there anyway!” She stopped folding a sweater and glanced at Molly over the rim of her open suitcase. “He’s wrong, of course. I’ll miss him terribly. And he promised to count the minutes until I return.” Emma smiled and placed the sweater inside the suitcase. “He’s always saying sweet things like that to me.”

  Molly nodded. “Mr. Smithers seems much happier since he met you. So different from when I first saw him in the diner five years ago.”

  “Well, he was quite despondent after his first wife had died, and running that business alone was the last thing he wanted to do. His heart just wasn’t in it anymore.”

  “He never told us about his first wife,” Molly said, quite surprised. “What happened to her? When did she die?”

  “About seven years ago. She had been very ill for a few months.” Emma gathered more items of clothing from another drawer. “Going through life wasn’t easy for him.”

  “It’s no wonder why he wanted to stay in Endora. I guess the diner held too many sad memories for him.”

  Emma nodded as a handful of socks tumbled over her fingers and into the suitcase. “But then he met me and…” She teared up slightly as she blushed. “Stanley often tells me that I erased the gray out of his life.”

  “I guess you mean the world to him,” Molly said with a grin. “Two in fact!”

  “We’re a two-world family,” she said, closing the suitcase and snapping the locks. “And though I miss my relatives in Endora, I do treasure my life here with Stanley.”

  “Believe it or not, I appreciate my family a lot more after all that’s happened since our first trip through the timedoor.” Molly gazed out the frosted window into the chilly winter night. “They’re always there for you, one way or another.”

  “Don’t ever forget that, Molly.”

  “I won’t–even with Christopher and Vergil as my brothers!” she said with a laugh.

  Six shadowy figures scurried down the snowy embankment leading to the stone support underneath the bridge by the river. In the cold December darkness, they entered the timedoor as quietly as raindrops sliding down a window pane. Soon a swirling, starry darkness enveloped the travelers, greeting them like an old friend and a mysterious stranger at the same time. Step by step they moved forward as if wandering lost through a blackened desert under a multitude of stars. Slowly a dim white light appeared ahead as if dawn were about to break. When they passed through the wavy opening in the solid stone wall and stepped into Artemas’ chamber, the most wonderfully sweet and intoxicating fragrance greeted their senses.

  Molly closed her eyes and deeply inhaled, smiling as if experiencing the sense of smell for the very first time. “Roses!” she whispered, standing still for a few moments. Then she opened her eyes and was flabbergasted.

  Scattered around the room were the reddest roses she had ever seen, some arranged in glass jars and clay vases, while others lay in bunches upon tables and shelves and the fireplace mantel, all tied with gold or silver cords. Still others had been placed in Artemas’ spare boots near the coat tree as he had apparently run out of room to store the flowers. Dozens upon lovely dozens of roses decorated the room, so many that Molly couldn’t even begin to count them. The others looked on, equally impressed.

  “Artemas, you’ve created a greenhouse in your chamber,” Mr. Jordan said, gazing in wonderment. “Giving up magic to go into the flower business?”

  “Not exactly…”

  “It’s a red jungle in here!” Christopher remarked as he wandered about, noticing a few parchment scrolls sticking out through a bundle of thorny rose stems leaning against one wall. “Why did you bring all these roses up here?”

  “And where did you get them?” Emma wondered, bringing her hands to her cheeks in amazement while inhaling the sweetened air. “It’s still days away until spring. Who could even grow roses this time of year?”

  “I didn’t grow them,” Artemas hastily explained, opening the door into the corridor. “Hurry now! We can talk about this later.”

  Molly rushed the opposite way to the set of double doors leading out onto the balcony, preparing to swing one wide open. “We need more light. I want a better look!”

  “No! Wait!” Artemas cried, spinning around and racing toward her.

  He was too late. Molly opened one of the doors and a blinding wave of morning sunshine splashed into the chamber. They all instinctively shaded their eyes for a moment to get used to the bright light and then looked around in utter astonishment. A wide swath of the roses had vanished. Wherever sunlight had washed over the flowers, they silently disappeared like a fading bubble of soap. Any rose lucky enough to avoid the direct light remained unscathed, appearing as a fresh newly cut blossom.

  Molly turned around and froze, her eyes wide with horror. She reluctantly shifted her gaze to Artemas, struggling to form an uneasy smile. “Oops…”

  “Perhaps double oops might be more appropriate,” Mr. Smithers said.

  Christopher gently slapped a hand to his forehead. “That should be a quadruple oops with a half twist! Way to go, Molly!”

  “I’m sorry!” she said, on the verge of tears. “I didn’t know they weren’t real.”

  Artemas dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand. “No harm done. More than half of the roses are remaining, so I can still monitor the test results for my experiment,” he said, hoping to ease her concern. “I might have gone a little overboard anyway. The room was getting a bit cluttered.”

  “Maybe just a bit.” Christopher plucked one of the roses on the mantel and dipped the top portion into a stream of sunlight. It faded instantly to nothingness. All he held in his hand were the remains of a thorny stem. “Neat…” He then tossed the stem into the sunlight so that it disappeared in midair. “I want to do that again!”

  “Christopher!” his father said with a sharp glance before addressing Artemas. “What kind of experiment were you performing?”

  “Apparently a fruitless one. I’m still attempting to create a living thing that can exist on its own in direct sunlight,” Artemas said. “I thought I was close to a solution.”

  “And I’ve ruined it,” muttered Molly, closing the balcony door. She recalled how Artemas had trapped the cat containing Belthasar’s spirit in a wildly growing patch of weeds and grass near the coronation platform. But as soon as sunlight peeked through the clouds, Artemas’ magical handiwork disappeared like morning mist.

  Artemas patted Molly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, young miss. I still have a few more spells to test. I may find a solution yet!”

  “Why’d you choose roses?” Christopher asked.

  “Because they don’t move around like grasshoppers and crickets,” Artemas replied dryly, eager to change the subject.

  “I think they’re lovely,” Emma said, smelling one of the blossoms. “Stanley bought some for me on our last anniversary. It’s a wonderful tradition in his world.”

  “So I learned during one of my previous visits,” Artemas replied. “But we don’t have time to chat about roses and failed magic spells. King Rupert and Queen Eleanor expect us to stop by their chamber before we go back through the timedoor to search for Belthasar. I reco
mmend visiting the local library first thing in the morning to utilize one of those computer contraptions to go, on-line, is it?”

  “That’s right, Artemas. But what for?” Molly asked.

  “So we can research the latest information about that actor whom Belthasar has inhabited. Maybe we can discover a clue to his whereabouts.”

  “Good idea,” Christopher said. “But we can do that on our home computer.”

  “Home computer? I suppose so,” Artemas said with a slight sigh. “But if we go to the library, perhaps that helpful librarian Miss Mayfield could, uh–help us! She assisted me admirably last year on Halloween night when I needed to locate your new home,” he fondly recalled. “And she was quite taken with some of my magic. That gigantic caramel cube really impressed her! Well, except for the broken table and the bits of candy corn splattered everywhere.”

  “She’s a very knowledgeable woman,” Mr. Jordan said, noting Artemas’ apparent affection for the lady. “Miss Mayfield has invited me and several of my museum co-workers to give talks at the library from time to time. Eager to see her again?”

  Artemas smirked. “I merely suggested that Mina might be able to assist us in our search. She is very smart. Any help would be to our advantage.”

  “Mina?” Molly asked with a teasing smile. “So you’re on a first-name basis with our librarian?”

  Artemas hooked a finger around his collar, tugging uneasily at his cloak. “If you must know, I had hoped to visit Miss Mayfield on my vacation. And it was she who insisted that I call her Mina.” He uncomfortably cleared his throat. “I also decided that it would be proper to offer her a gift, and well, I figured a bouquet of roses created especially for her by me would be a thoughtful and spectacular gesture. So I practiced making them.”

  “And practiced,” Mr. Smithers said with a grin.

  “And practiced some more,” Christopher added.

  “Don’t listen to them!” Molly said. “Roses are a great idea.”

  “Just buy her some real ones,” Mr. Jordan suggested. “It’s a lot less work.”

  “But a lot less personal, too. Why settle for store-bought when you can have all of these?” Artemas waved a hand at what was left of his floral creation.

  “Why don’t you talk to Miss Mayfield first?” Emma asked. “Get to know her better before plying her with gifts.”

  “Well, there’s that, too. But a magic show and a roomful of roses might win her over at once. I have a timedoor schedule to compete with,” Artemas reminded them. “Besides, I’m a better magician than a conversationalist. I’d rather play to my strengths.”

  “You can always practice speaking,” Molly said matter-of-factly. “Talk to yourself in front of a mirror.”

  Christopher burst out laughing. “How lame is that?”

  “Hmmm…” Artemas said. “What an intriguing idea.”

  “See?” Molly replied, sticking her tongue out at her brother. “Artemas thinks it’s a great idea!”

  “What do you know?” he replied with a scowl before turning to Artemas. “Buy Miss Mayfield a dozen roses like my dad said and take her out to dinner. That should do the trick.”

  “Maybe Chris can recommend one of his romantic hangouts for greasy burgers and fries,” Molly said with a snicker, holding her hands to her heart.

  “Hey, Miss Drama, who’s even listening to you?”

  “All right. Enough out of both you characters,” Mr. Jordan said with a snap of his fingers. “Artemas can handle his own life. He doesn’t need advice from us.”

  “I appreciate your suggestions,” Artemas said. “But I’ll handle things with Miss Mayfield as I best see fit. In the meantime, the King and Queen are waiting, and the minutes until the timedoor closes are ticking away. So if you would all follow me.”

  Artemas held open the door leading to the corridor and waved his guests through, then marched past them to the front of the crowd. As much as he wanted to renew his relationship with Miss Mayfield, he knew more important matters faced him now that Belthasar had been located. Magic roses might have to be put on the back burner. Perhaps magic timedoors should be placed there as well, he wondered, all too aware of the trouble he had caused because of them. The magician shook his head and sighed, already tired from the mountain of work ahead of him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  To Catch a Thief

  They wandered through castle corridors and down several staircases on their way to find King Rupert. Christopher and Molly felt at home among the maze of stone walls adorned with flaming torches, fragrant pine boughs and numerous tapestries bedecked with gold fringe. Their voices echoed cheerfully off graceful stone archways and intricately carved statues scattered throughout the chambers. Then they turned a corner.

  As they neared a secondary kitchen, the torches along that corridor had been extinguished. Shadows and whispers drifted stealthily between the narrow walls. A tense and suffocating silence gripped this section of the castle. Artemas quickly raised a hand as he approached the last burning torch, signaling for everyone to halt. Christopher and Molly scurried up to him, both painfully aware that something wasn’t right.

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Jordan whispered, gently grabbing Christopher and Molly by the shoulder before they could shoot past Artemas.

  “I’m not sure,” the magician replied, pointing down the corridor. “But I think we’re about to find out.”

  Mr. Jordan pulled his children close to him as the silhouette of a man hurried toward them up the darkened corridor. Mr. Smithers held Emma’s trembling hand. Artemas stepped in front of the group, preparing for the worst as the light from the last torch reflected off the eyes of the stranger.

  “Stay where you are!” he whispered.

  Though the grave tone of the man’s speech ratcheted up the tension, everyone breathed easier nonetheless when they recognized Ulric’s commanding voice. They smiled as King Rupert’s chief guard stepped into the light, greeted by the familiar tangle of light brown hair rolling down to his shoulders and a pair of blue eyes set into his careworn face. He held a finger to his lips as he directed them away from the entrance of the corridor and back around the corner.

  “It’s good to see all of you again,” he said when it was safe to speak, “though I apologize for my uncordial greeting.”

  “What in the King’s castle is going on?” Artemas inquired.

  “We’re conducting a small-scale operation,” he hastily explained. “Several of my men are in position down that darkened hallway, waiting to catch a thief in the act. Others are stationed near the main entrance in the corridor parallel to it, ready to strike.”

  “Who has been stealing, Ulric, and what’s been stolen?” Mr. Smithers asked.

  At once, Ulric was peppered with a dozen questions. He finally agreed to provide a quick version of events so he could rejoin the operation at this critical time.

  “Someone has been taking food supplies from the old kitchen down that passage,” he explained. “It’s only used as a storage room now, but Mrs. Pech, one of the head cooks, insists that items are being pilfered from inside. So after several days of complaints from her, King Rupert has kindly insisted that I look into the matter and resolve it one way or another.”

  “It’s not exactly clashing with a troll army,” Christopher said with a smirk.

  “We must accept our battles as they present themselves,” Ulric replied with an unenthusiastic sigh, “even if they are occasionally fought over a missing bit of dried beef or a sack of apples and chestnuts.”

  “You’ll do your usual great job regardless of the circumstances,” Molly said in an effort to cheer him.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Mr. Smithers offered, noting that he was still a member of the King’s guard.

  “Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” Ulric said. “I anticipate we’ll have this matter solved–”

  “We’ve got him!” a muffled voice shouted from down the darkened corridor.

  Ulr
ic grinned. “–momentarily.”

  He rounded the corner in a flash with the others in tow, grabbed the lit torch and headed down the passageway toward the kitchen, igniting each blackened torch along the way. The corridor was soon ablaze with light and ten other soldiers were now visible, eagerly gathered near the back entrance to the kitchen. The door had been swung wide open as the young men, armed with swords, bows and daggers, waited for their two companions who had charged into the kitchen after the intruder. Moments later they emerged, carrying a small wooden barrel once stuffed to the brim with salted pork, but now containing the very trespasser itself.

  “What’s in there?” Molly asked as the two men, each only a few years older than Christopher, gently set the covered barrel onto the stone floor.

  “We caught him, sir!” one of them proudly said to Ulric as the barrel slightly rocked back and forth.

  “Exactly who did you catch?” he asked, scratching his head.

  “Not who, but what!” the other soldier replied, prying off the wooden cover. “Take a look!”

  Though not everyone had a perfect view, they nonetheless craned forward hoping for a glimpse of the culprit. Spinning around at the bottom of the barrel and clawing at the sides was a fully grown raccoon. The creature looked up, the dark patches just below the eyes giving it a bandit-like appearance suitable for the occasion. One of the soldiers raced into the kitchen and grabbed a small piece of salted meat and dropped it in for the raccoon to feast upon and calm its nerves. The animal took a few cautionary sniffs before greedily devouring the treat, momentarily forgetting its predicament.

  “Not exactly the thief I had anticipated,” Uric said. “But at least we won’t have to lock up the critter in one of King Rupert’s prison cells.”

  “What shall we do with it, sir?” a soldier asked while the others watched the raccoon with fascination.

  “Take it outside and release it in the woods. No real harm done,” Ulric said. “The rest of you may return to your posts.”