A Block Of Time by Judy Colella (brene brown rising strong .TXT) 📕

“Which means nothing to me. Sorry. So you’re half elf, eh? May I assume your father is human?”

“You may. He was a knight.”

“Was. Is he dead?”

“No, retired.”

“Ah.”

We were silent for a while after that, but eventually he told me we had to go see someone – if I was honestly desirous of returning to my own time, he added. I mean, I don’t say “desirous” unless I’m reading a book out loud that has that word in it. Usually.

“What, eh, what should I wear?”

Now he looked confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

I looked down at the light blue gown. It was pretty, all flowy and sparkly here and there, but I was used to business outfits for work, jeans and tee-shirts after work, and normally wore nothing to bed. And that reminded me… “By the way, who changed my clothes?”

He gulped. For real. He actually turned pink and gulped.

“Oh, no you did not!”

“Well, there was no one else, you see, and your things were horribly torn and dirty, so I just…”

“I should smack you with a pterodactyl!” I had no idea if he knew what that was, nor did I care. In fact, if he hadn’t been so attractive, I probably would have killed him. Or kicked him very, very hard.

“Please, Silver, I was most respectful and didn’t, I mean, I didn’t touch anythin…” He trailed off, completely unable to continue.

I made a harrumphing noise and went outside, where I promptly had a hysterical laughing fit. The look on his face - !

Okay, enough. Once he’d recovered his dignity, he gathered supplies for our journey and off we went – on foot – to go see some old wizard or something. He was still muttering his words and wouldn’t look directly at me, so I missed most of what he said.

Halfway through our journey, I asked him how much he’d already known about the future. He mentioned something about prophecies and speculations by the great Sages, some of whom had apparently traveled back and forth in these bizarre time-blocks. He also told me that many of the things I’d told him lined up with what they had concluded about the coming ages based on research and prophecy. Nothing about the internet, though – they definitely hadn’t seen that one coming, maybe because there had been no predictions about Al Gore. Whatever.

We walked for four days, sleeping at roadside inns and avoiding the occasional barbarian and other warlike types populating the area. Our destination, I was glad to see, was a city. Surrounded by thick, grey stone walls, the timber, daub and stone buildings within looked safe and comfortable. The closer we got, the busier the road became. Many carts drawn by lizard-like creatures rattled along beside or past us. Men and women with various burdens strapped to their backs were heading in through the iron-clad wooden gates while others with lighter loads were coming out.

Once inside, Zoxan led me through narrow winding streets to a large, square building with tall, narrow windows glazed with deep blue glass. No one challenged us as we entered, but I had the feeling that once we’d passed the few individuals wandering about inside, they were stopping to stare after us. I began to feel odd in a creepy, uh-oh kind of way. Something was about to happen. I could sense it. Something strange. Something….

“Silver, I’d like to introduce you to my mentor, Folorion.”

“Huh?”

We had entered a wide alcove on the right side of the corridor near its end, and I found myself being regarded by someone who could have been the prototype for Merlin.

“Ah,” said the ancient-looking man, his grey-blue eyes narrowed. “I was wondering when you’d finally get here, young lady. You’ve kept us waiting for far too long.”

I gaped for several long moments, during which time a fabulous array of sarcastic replies sashayed down the runway of my mind, begging to be used. “I must have overslept” was my favorite, with “I got off at the wrong era” running a close second. What finally came out was, “Heh?” Not exactly rapier-sharp repartee, but what the heck? A dusty old wizard in a black and purple-striped bathrobe had made it clear he’d been expecting me, and you could have blown me over with an escargot.

He turned away, no doubt ignoring my witty response, and yanked a gigantic book off the shelf behind him. Let me clarify. The book wasn’t, like, bigger than the wizard or anything (although that wouldn’t have surprised me); it was simply thick. Fat. Too many pages. That kind of gigantic. In fact, the poor guy nearly dropped it, but was able to haul it up onto the small table beside the shelf with a considerable amount of grunting. He opened it, turned a few pages, then a few more, and shouted, “Aha!”

He was making me nervous.

“You’re right here, my dear,” he said, beckoning me closer with one hand while pointing at the page with the other.

I took a tentative step toward him. “You, er, you aren’t going to turn me into a toad or anything, are you?”

Behind me, Zoxan made an odd choking noise.

“Why would I ever do that?” asked the wizard. “Besides, I wouldn’t know how to go about it. Please – you must look at this.”

I sighed and went the rest of the way. I still didn’t trust him, but if he was going to do something frightening or magical to me, surely the intervening two feet wouldn’t stop him. This book, by the way, was colorful in the extreme. When I finally stopped sidelong-glancing Folorion long enough to see what he was pointing at, I was immediately impressed with the artwork.

Inside an ornate border of flowers, trees, and…geesh…dinosaurs, an inner, oval frame made of runes surrounded a beautifully detailed painting of a girl. She was tall and slender, had long, pale blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and was wearing a somewhat sparkly blue gown. Behind her was a full-length mirror, and from the way one of her feet was emerging from within the glass, it was obvious she had come out of the mirror itself. I leaned down to get a better look at her face –

“Hey! That…that’s…what the heck!”

“You are the girl from the silver,” said Folorion, sounding a little smug, although I couldn’t think why.

“You mean the girl from the mirror.”

“The what?”

“My name is Silver, and that thing is a mirror – you know, a looking-glass?”

“It’s a silver, my child. But if that is also your name, it confirms everything.”

Yeah, like the dead-ringer drawing wasn’t confirmation enough. She was even wearing the same danged gown! “Okay, explain, please.”

“One of our Seers contributed the portrait to this volume, the Book of Tomorrow.”

“Sounds like something out of Disneyland.”

Folorion chuckled. “No, no, Walter wouldn’t have such a thing. A Land of Tomorrow, he said, or was it ‘Tomorrowland’ – can’t remember exactly.”

“What?! You know Walt Disney?”

“Of course, dear. He was one of the first to come through the silver.”

“I see.” I needed to sit down. “Tell me, what am I doing here?”

“We don’t really know.”

“What?” I seemed to be saying that a lot. “You knew I was coming but didn’t know why?”

“Well, usually our visitors are only here to give us information about the future. For instance, we know that one day the human race will take over completely, and the other races will go into permanent hiding. John Ronald Reuel told us about that.” He tucked his long hands into his sleeves and gave me a gentle smile.

John Ronald Reuel, John Ronald Reuel….J.R…..ack! J.R.R. Tolkein?! Well, ha! Middle Earth, of course!

“I see you know who I mean.”

“Er, sure. But wait. Why the whole mir- uh, silver thing? Didn’t I get here by way of some kind of time cube or something?”

“Yes, but you see, since all of life is a reflection of itself in some form or another, these blocks are four-dimensional silvers.”

My mind automatically corrected that to “four-dimensional mirrors,” but I can’t say the correction made me feel any better. “Oh. So now what?”

“You must speak before the Council of Wizards, Bards and Elders of the Sorcery Schools.”

“Must I, indeed!”

“Yes. Indeed.”

“And what, pray tell, am I going to speak about?”

“You will be introduced,” said Zoxan, startling me. I’d forgotten he was standing there. “Then you will tell them the year from which you came, and after that, they shall ask you questions, and you shall answer them.”

Why was I beginning to feel like a version of Alice who had somehow taken a wrong turn while falling down the rabbit-hole? Is that even possible? Whatever. “Fine. After that, may I go back home?”

Zoxan looked over my head at Folorion. Some kind of silent communication passed between them. They exchanged meaningful stares.

“I’m going to kick you both in the shins in a minute. Talk to me!”

“Oh, sorry, my dear,” said Folorion.

“Stop calling me that. My name is Silver.”

“Of course. Silver. The fact is,” continued the wizard through a sigh, “we simply do not know. Some of our visitors returned while others are yet here, still looking for a way back.”

That uh-oh feeling started crawling up my spine again. “How many?”

“Just a few.” The old fart was being evasive, and we all knew it.

“Just a few, you say. Can you count them on one hand?”

“Well…no. I don’t have enough fingers.”

“Two hands, then?”

He cleared his throat and asked Zoxan to help him get the Book back up onto shelf.

“Both hands and one foot?”

The wizard sighed again, and suddenly, from inside one sleeve, he whipped out a gnarled stick that I later concluded was a magic wand. He aimed it at me, said some words I didn’t understand, and I found myself believing I was two years old.

“Da cookie!” I exclaimed for no apparent reason.

“That’s right, dear.” Folorion patted me on the head. “I’ll give you a cookie if you sit down over there like a good little girl and be very, very quiet.”

“Want my foo-foo.”

“Your foo-foo?”

“Bunny foo-foo!”

A large, pink, stuffed rabbit appeared in my arms, and I went to the other side of the alcove, snuggled down against the wall, and squeezed the bunny rabbit, grinning happily. And for the next hour or so, life was good again.