“Sixteen,” he proudly replied.
“That old? It seems like only yesterday that you and Molly were running through the leaves on my property and playing in that old barn on the side of the house.” She recalled fond memories viewed through her curtained windows. “I’ll bet your imaginations provided for some fine adventures. Make sure you never forget them!”
Christopher and Molly glanced at one another, trying to conceal their grins.
“I guarantee that we won’t,” he promised.
“For once, I agree with my brother!” Molly replied.
“We’re heading over to Stanley and Emma’s restaurant for a snack,” Mrs. Jordan said. “Why don’t you join us? It’ll give us a chance to catch up.”
“Sounds like a wonderful idea!” Mrs. Halloway replied as they walked down the road, chatting up a storm under the sprinkle of winter stars.
Half an hour later, after Mr. Jordan and Vergil returned with Magic, the nine visitors sat around one of the restaurant tables and shared old memories and brand new adventures. Hot drinks and grilled sandwiches were served underneath pine garland and glowing Christmas lights that still adorned the wooden rafters. And amid the celebration, no one noticed the deep of night fading gently away, replaced by a brilliant sunrise peeking up behind the distant trees in a cold crisp air. And nobody minded in the least.
EPILOGUE
A Family Gathering
“Now where did I leave off?” Molly asked herself, sitting down at her desk in the upstairs study. She took a sip of coffee before picking up a pen to write in her journal.
I remember that day vividly. My eleven-year-old brother ran up to me as I worked the soil in my imaginary garden at our old house. The sun was setting on that chilly October evening and Christopher was as excited as a treasure hunter. Everything changed at that moment–for all of us and in so many ways. And now, here we are–
“Ready?” a soft voice whispered at the doorway. “I put on my jacket.”
Molly set her pen down and glanced at the smiling six-year-old with stringy blond hair. “Come here, silly. We’re not leaving just yet.” Molly removed the girl’s purple jacket after she had skipped over to her mother. “You’ll be as warm as a toasted muffin by the time we get in the car. Let me write for a few more minutes, Rosalind, and then we’ll meet Grandma and Grandpa Jordan for our little get-together.”
“Okay. But Daddy told me to check up on you.”
“So you’re his little spy, is that it?” Molly kissed her daughter on the forehead.
“What are you writing now?” Rosalind asked as she tapped a finger on the open journal. “Haven’t you finished that story yet, Mom?”
“It’s not really a story, Rosalind.” She lifted her daughter onto her lap. “I’m jotting down interesting things that happen to me as the years go by. I even write things about you, sweetheart!”
“Really?”
“Sure. You’re my best source for material lately.”
Rosalind looked wide-eyed at the elegant lines in blue ink. “Can you read some?”
“Maybe when you’re a little older and–”
“What’s this?” Rosalind asked, removing a small folded piece of parchment sticking out of the journal.
“I use that as a bookmarker to keep my place.”
“What does it say?” she asked, noticing black ink marks through the paper.
Molly unfolded it, the scent of parchment and ink taking her back to the golden orange glow of a setting sun splashed across the plains. “This is a poem I wrote when I was about twice your age. I planned to work on it some more, but decided I liked it just the way it is. You were only an infant when I last looked at it.”
“Read it to me, Mom. We’ve got time.”
Molly smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise to go downstairs and keep Daddy company until I finish up here. A deal?”
“Deal!” Rosalind replied with a sharp nod.
Molly glanced at the scribbles of black ink, recalling the day she had written the poem in a horse-drawn carriage on a return trip from Solárin. Some days she wondered if that event had really happened. She looked at her daughter, knowing Rosalind was eagerly awaiting a performance.
“Okay, honey. Here goes. Tell me if you like it. The title is Family.”
“So far I like it, Mom.”
“Well, thank you. Now here’s the rest.”
Family is like a gentle breeze
that sweeps across a field of flowers.
Family is like the warming light
that saves you in your darkest hours.
When times are tough and the world is cold
they’ll comfort you in your plight.
But when family is away you need only recall
the sweeping breeze and the saving light.
Molly set the poem down and held her daughter close. “So what do you think?”
“It’s very nice. Even better than frosted brownies!”
“That’s your favorite dessert, so I guess you must really like it!” Molly replied, kissing her on the head. “Thank you so much for listening.”
“You’re welcome.” Rosalind climbed off her mother’s lap and patted her on the arm. “Now I’ll keep Daddy company.” She hurried out the door but popped her head in one more time. “Write fast!” Then she disappeared as Molly picked up her pen.
“And now, here we are–” she said, reading the last few words she had written.
–twenty five years later to the very day that King Rupert and Artemas stepped into our lives. Shortly after, we literally walked into their world, and the timedoor would forever become a focal point in our lives. Yet despite the trials of those first few years, we’ve had many wonderful and joyous visits to Endora and Solárin since.
Still, nearly two years have passed since the timedoor last opened. We are all getting older no matter which side of the magical door we live on. Children grow, parents age and busy lives eat up the hours in each swiftly passing year. So naturally, a walk through the stars cannot occur as often as one would like, even though Artemas has perfected his spells and can now open the timedoor more often and nearly at a time of his choosing.
He was particularly cagey the last time I talked to him, informing me that he was working on another timedoor spell without revealing the particulars. Artemas promised to share the results whenever we next meet. At that time I didn’t know when it would be, so I slipped a note in his cloak pocket as I hugged him and his wife Mina goodbye. I will write more about this later after I learn one way or the other about the success of his secret spell and of my note. In the meantime, I have a party to attend!
The Jordan clan gathered at their parents’ house on Maple Street at quarter to five before going to the party. The quiet flicker of candlelight within the glowing jack-o-lanterns on the front porch contrasted the cheerful bedlam inside.
“Cigam is not a horse,” Christopher told his five-year-old son Art who wanted to take a ride on the Wheaten Terrier. He scooped up Art and placed him on his shoulder.
“I told him so,” said Samuel Rupert, his older brother by three years. “Art wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You probably gave Art that idea,” Samuel’s mother said as she walked by to greet Molly and her family as they entered the house.
Vergil and his fiancée sat on the couch, holding hands and giggling. “See what we get to look forward to in a few more years?” he whispered into her ear.
“Listen up!” Mr. Jordan said, enjoying his first few months of retirement from the museum. “We can all pile into two cars and head to the restaurant.”
“Cigam rides in your car, Dad!” Molly shouted.
“Unless the two of them want to walk!” Mrs. Jordan suggested with a laugh.
“Jillian and I will take my car,” Vergil said. “Two cars are a bit too cramped.”
“Can I ride with you, Uncle Vergil?” Rosalind asked.
“No fair! I was going to ask him that,” Samuel R
upert shouted.
“Too late, Sam. I was first, slowpoke!”
“But I thought of it first–and I’m taller!”
And the bantering continued out the front door into the cool October air. Moments later, three cars pulled out of the driveway and headed to Stanley and Emma Smithers’ restaurant in a swirl of leaves and laughter.
Though the restaurant was closed for business that evening, it basked in the glow of warm light when everyone arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Smithers had enlarged their building to accommodate more patrons, the only visible change along the rural road outside the city. The old river bridge lay ahead just beyond the restaurant, its cold metal beams stretching across the water like a sleeping giant.
“Too bad Eleanor and Charles couldn’t join us,” Mrs. Jordan said as she helped Emma set out appetizers. Her grandchildren’s laughter echoed from the adjacent dining section. “How are they doing these days?”
“Busy at school,” Emma replied. “Eleanor is a junior at college. She wants to run the restaurant after she gets her degree.”
“And I’m ready to let her!” Mr. Smithers replied as he wiped off some drinking glasses behind the bar. “I want to retire soon–at least part of the time.”
“You know you love this place,” Molly said as she folded a pile of cloth napkins. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
“You’re probably right,” he said.
“And how’s C. U. doing?” Mr. Jordan asked.
“Charles Ulric is finishing his final year at the military academy,” Mr. Smithers proudly said. “Hopes to be a four-star general by the time he’s thirty!”
“I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised,” Emma replied. “After all, your stories about being in King Rupert’s army were quite an inspiration to him, Sir Smithers!”
“You must be talking about Endora,” Christopher said as he walked by, snitching a piece of cheese from one of the snack platters.
“What else would be the topic of conversation today?” Mrs. Jordan said.
“Speaking of which–isn’t it about time we headed over to the bridge?” Mr. Jordan said, glancing at his watch. It was nearly six o’clock.
So after leaving the other adults with the children, Mr. and Mrs. Jordan, Christopher, Molly, Vergil and Stanley and Emma Smithers walked along the side of the road to the bridge. Cigam followed closely behind, his tail wagging contentedly. Christopher and his father turned on flashlights as the group headed down the grassy embankment into the shadows lurking underneath the bridge. The river flowed silently by, speckled with the last light from the setting sun. Though twenty-five years had passed since the timedoor first opened, the area looked nearly unchanged, as if time had forgotten to cast its spell over this quiet section of town.
Mr. Smithers passed out a plastic cup to everyone, then held up a bottle in the glow of the flashlights and popped a cork. “I thought a toast at the stroke of six would be appropriate, the hour when the timedoor first opened to our world.” He filled each glass with the bubbling liquid.
“It’s only carbonated grape juice,” Emma said. “I wasn’t sure if the little ones were going to join the celebration.”
“It’ll be a while yet before Rosalind learns about Endora,” Molly said, unable to imagine her daughter walking through the timedoor on her own.
“Same here,” Christopher agreed, referring to his two sons. “They’re a handful as it is without them wanting to run off to another world.”
“Now you know how your mother and I felt,” Mr. Jordan said. “Welcome to our world!”
He raised the flashlight to look upon the grinning faces of his two oldest children. Suddenly his eyes widened as the beam of light hit the outline of an individual standing near the edge of the river, hidden among the thick shadows just beyond the bridge. The tall man walked slowly toward them as everyone turned around in surprise. Cigam barked at once but Vergil calmed him down.
“I heard there was going to be a party tonight,” a familiar voice said. “I didn’t want to miss it.”
“Well, if this isn’t the icing on the cake!” Mrs. Jordan joyfully replied.
Christopher immediately aimed his flashlight at the bridge support, noticing a hazy distortion amid the solid rock. He smiled. The timedoor was open again.
“Artemas, how’d you get here?”
“The usual way, Christopher. I walked through the timedoor, of course.”
“But how did you know we’d be here? And at this moment?”
Artemas smiled at Molly. “I received some advanced notice.”
“It was a wild hope when I slipped you that note,” Molly said. “I knew we’d be thinking about you now, but I didn’t believe you would actually show up.”
“Twenty-five years is a milestone,” the magician replied, recalling the first time he had stepped through the magical door into this world. “I worked on my spells with particular diligence over the last few months so I could arrive just at this hour.”
“How many years have gone by according to your time?” Christopher asked. “Now that forty is creeping up on me, I pay more attention to the passing seasons.”
Artemas thought for a moment. “According to the Endoran calendar, I arrived here the first time approximately twenty years, one hundred and sixty-six days and sixteen hours ago.” He noted the astonished looks. “Don’t be that amazed. I performed the calculations before I left in case someone might ask!”
“I would have believed you even if you hadn’t admitted that,” Mr. Jordan said.
Suddenly Cigam nosed up to Artemas, his tail flapping like a windshield wiper. “And who is this excited fellow? Why, he’s nearly the spitting image of Magic.”
“That’s Cigam,” Vergil said. “Magic spelled backward.”
“After Sam retired, we decided it was time for another dog,” Mrs. Jordan said. “We missed Magic, and Cigam was the perfect choice in name and breed.”
Mr. Jordan walked up to the bridge support, slipping his hand inside the timedoor so that it temporarily disappeared. “You modified your spells to open a timedoor more often and closer to a time of your liking. But this, Artemas, was perfect timing.”
“I’ve been tweaking the process,” he modestly said. “I’ve made two additional modifications besides.”
“Will I be able to make a quick visit to see my sister?” Emma asked.
“Of course. Queen Eleanor is eager to see you. The King and Queen send their regards to one and all,” he said. “However, you must go now. The timedoor will remain open for nearly three hours, but it will only open this one time. Or it should.”
“What about the three times rule?” Mr. Smithers asked.
“That was one of the two modifications,” he replied. “Creating a magical timedoor is no easy feat. By reducing the number of openings from three to one, I saved myself a few headaches. First, I don’t have to monitor the subsequent two openings, and second, it’s less taxing on my magic. I’m not as young as I used to be,” Artemas said with a grin. “In your reckoning, I’m a few years shy of eighty. Nearly as old as King Rupert himself! And since this is my first test of the new spell, Emma, I’d like to have you back here before the timedoor closes to make sure everything works out as I predict.”
Molly smirked. “After all these years of research, I doubt you’re capable of making any timedoor mistakes.” No one else thought so either, but Emma promised nonetheless to be back in under two hours.
“What’s the second modification?” Christopher asked.
“You’ll see,” Artemas replied with a playful air of mystery as Mr. Smithers handed him a cup of grape drink.
As the setting sun filtered through the distant trees in the cool October air, everyone toasted the timedoor at that special moment. Mr. Smithers then escorted his wife back to Endora to visit her sister and quickly returned to accompany the others to the restaurant for their twenty-five year celebration.
“Artemas, why didn’t Mina come with you?” Mrs. Jordan asked as they wal
ked along the road. The tops of the nearby pines and shedding maples stood as silhouettes against a crisp evening sky budding with fire white stars.
“She’s visiting our son Cedric,” he replied. “He’s working in the village of Osella near the Solárin border. He’s just over seventeen years old by your count.”
“What’s Cedric doing?” Vergil asked.
“Building ships. He’s been an apprentice since early spring,” the magician said. “With commerce flourishing up and down the Alorian River and across the Baridorn Sea, he couldn’t have picked a finer occupation.”
“Weren’t you training him to be a magician?” Molly asked. “That’s what Cedric told me the last time I saw him.”
Artemas cleared his throat. “That occupation didn’t take. Though Cedric still practices magic from time to time as a hobby, he, um…”
“What wrong?” Christopher asked.
“Let’s just say that Cedric’s magical touch is slightly askew. The last time he cast a freezing spell over a cup of water, I ended up with a charred hole in my working table.”
Molly chuckled. “Oops!”
“And as for his one attempt to create a timedoor…” Artemas shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Well, I suppose the less said about that, the better.”
“Don’t feel bad, Artemas. Not everyone is suited to be a magician,” Mr. Jordan said.
“Or a ship builder,” his wife added.
“And that’s probably the way it should be,” Artemas replied as they walked up to the glowing lights of the restaurant and stepped inside.
The partiers indulged in delicious food and drink while discussing old times as so often before. When Rosalind, Art and Samuel Rupert inquired about the bearded guest, Molly informed them that he was their great Uncle Artemas from Finland who dropped by for a visit. She figured that that explanation should suffice for a few years.
“You must tell us about your relatives back home, Artemas,” she added with a wink, eager to hear about her friends beyond the timedoor, particularly the royal couple of Solárin.
The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series) Page 70