Summon the Elven Mage by Barbara Ferrier (love story books to read txt) 📕

Kris woke up as the sun was rising, packed his bag, and left the hotel. He went to his favorite bakery and grabbed a cup of coffee. He glanced at the morning newspaper across the room, and words jumped off the page. “Travel south.”

Walking down the familiar cobblestones, he glanced into a small alley. Graffiti on the wall said, “Travel south.” Kris blinked and looked again. There were no words in the alley. I saw it. I’m losing my mind.

He went to the local park, sat on the bench, saw two young boys playing. They reminded him of his nephew Jaime. He tossed his pastry bag away and saw a sticker on the trash can: “Southbound now.”

He ran from the park to the train station, stopped at the reader board, and looked at the choices. The final station popped out with an orange halo.

The train arrived as Kris stepped onto the platform. He grabbed a window seat and watched as the city gave way to suburbs, farmland, and villages that dotted the countryside.

Kris got out his journal and began writing. Maybe if he wrote it down, his trip would make more sense. Had this strange new mindset crept in through the dream? Somehow, he had the feeling of déjà vu.

It was late when he arrived at his destination. The port station was bustling and filled with commotion despite the late hour. He picked up his bag and walked outside, where he saw a late-night marketplace across the street. He purchased a few things for the road.

As he walked out of the market, Kris wondered which way to go. It was late enough to find a hotel, but when he looked at the list, none popped. Outside the market he felt tension in the night air. He walked back inside.

A lit corridor in the back of the market caught his attention. He looked to see if anything was written in English. There was no sign. Walking down the corridor, he saw a man packing bags of food. He had enough food to feed a small army. Kris assumed he owned a restaurant.

“Looks like you have a big job there. Do you have a restaurant?” Kris said.

“You could say I feed many people,” he responded.

Kris smiled. “Kris Campbell.”

“My name is Edwardo. How do you do?”

“Do you need help? I am wandering, taking a break from a job that has too many responsibilities, and now I seem to have too few.” He chuckled.

“That’s kind of you. Would you please help me take these bags to the ship outside? I am getting ready to board.”

“Absolutely,” Kris said.

The two walked out of the market together, across the street, and down a back stairway to the dock with many bags of food. The large ship was boarding.

“Where are you going?” Kris asked.

“To visit a few small villages,” Edwardo said. “I love spending time with people there. I worry they don’t have enough food. It’s my greatest pleasure to cook a feast and create a party, then leave them days of food … I found these people when I was just wandering, like you are now, four years ago. Now I check on them and learn from them. I have a route that I follow. I’ll return here in one week. They live in a different world altogether. Would you like to join me? You’re more than welcome. Maybe it will help you find whatever it is you seek.” He smiled broadly.

“Sounds good,” Kris said, shrugging. He liked Edwardo.

The two got the rest of the heavy bags of food and loaded them onto the boat. Kris bought a one-way ticket, glad for an adventure and a traveling companion.

When they got off the boat, Edwardo’s Jeep was waiting. The two put their bags in the Jeep, then stuffed the back with food.

As they drove, the land became more arid. Edwardo turned off the main highway onto a dirt road.

“I love their stories,” Edwardo said. “I feel a kinship with these people that I can’t explain. I think their stories help me see the world differently. I would hate for our ancient world to lose its knowledge. They must have done something right.” He shook his head. “There are many kinds of wisdom in the world, I have found. You will feel the same, I think.”

Kris nodded, thinking of the old man at the train station who had taught him how to travel. He doubted he’d used his brain like that before.

“I start my trip out here,” Edwardo explained, taking the map from the dashboard and pointing. “We’ll surprise them with a feast. Do you love to cook? Or play with children? It brings pleasure to my heart every time I watch the people come from over the hills to Edwardo’s party. That’s what they call it. I want to capture the elder’s stories before it is too late. And they agree. They want their wisdom written down.”

“I look forward to Edwardo’s party.” Kris smiled.

“They tell their stories by writing them in the sand. This is how the lore is passed down through the generations.”

Edwardo smiled and laughed. “Your bag is so small. That’s unusual for a tourist.”

“I brought my pencils and journals and personal stuff. I like to write and draw, depending on my mood. I had a bunch of travel books I didn’t need so I left them. At the market, some old carvings had the look of an archaeological site. I’ve always loved museums that show life thousands of years ago—wondered what their lives were like.”

“Then you will not be disappointed,” Edwardo said. “In the modern day, we’ve forgotten all that came before. Those traditions, in my opinion, are part of who we are, and they’re worth learning from. If we had the wisdom of many cultures, we might have more solutions. It takes a lot of creativity for the human species to survive.”

The road petered out and turned to dirt. Edwardo headed directly across the open hills, leaving feint tire tracks. They arrived at the small