A Thousand Years of Hope - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The sunrise turned the vineyard landscape into a beautiful spectacle. Dante Arturo drove along the main path between the fields in an open jeep. He loved mornings at Artri, but today felt different. He worried in the face of the beautiful sunrise.

Driving faster, Dante brought the jeep to a stop near a sizeable olive grove on the edge of the property. Getting out of the jeep, he grabbed the bag filled with sample containers and walked fast, hurrying down a wide path between olive trees.

“Dante.”

Dante turned left when he heard his name and raised his hand in greeting when he saw the vineyard manager, Hasim Kaan, waving at him.

“Over here,” Hasim said.

Dante hurried to where Hasim stood behind the thickest olive tree in the grove. Dante slowed down when he saw his mother crouched by the roots of the olive tree, her hand digging in the soil. When she heard Dante, she took a bunch and held it to him on her palm.

“What is causing the soil to turn this black?” Nora Arturo asked.

Dante crouched next to her and took her palm. The soil on her palm was indeed as black as night. Dante bent his head over her palm and took a deep whiff. The soil smelled of decay and death.

“The soil is corrupted,” Dante said with a sigh.

“Corrupted soil does not come out of the blue,” Nora said, narrowing her gaze on the black soil.

Dante got a glass container from his bag and placed the soil on his mother’s palm into the container. He wiped his palm over his mother’s, cleaning the dirt out of his mother’s skin, and smiled at her.

“Don’t worry so much,” Dante said. “We’ll find out the source of the problem.”

“I hope we find it soon,” Nora said, getting up from her crouch to touch the oldest olive tree in their home. “I don’t want to lose any olive tree, Dante.”

“One of my colleagues gave me a contact working in the Elderwood Conservancy. He says the conservancy is on the west side of our island, with researchers who can tell us what’s wrong with the soil. I’ll take these samples to them today,” Dante said. “They may help us.”

“I’ll leave it to you,” Nora said, with a sigh, tracing the bark of the olive tree one last time.

Dante got to work collecting soil samples around the olive tree.

“I’ll have the workers help me watch the grapevines,” Hasim said, helping Dante dig deeper for soil samples. “It wouldn’t do to have this black soil invade the vines.”

“It will be hard work,” Dante said. “Let me know if you need extra help. I’ll also come during the weekends.”

“We can manage, Dante,” Hasim assured him. “You focus on discovering what is infecting our soil. We have never had this kind of trouble before.”

“Could it be from the beach?” Nora asked, her gaze shifting to the bushes beyond the olive grove and leading to the beach beyond. “An oil spill or something worse.”

“Perhaps,” Hasim said. “I have three men checking the beach. We haven’t found anything that can sink into the soil enough to rot it. We’ll keep looking, though.”

Once Dante and Hasim finished collecting the soil samples, Nora asked Hasim to walk the grove and report on the extent of the black corrupted soil. Dante led Nora back to the jeep and drove back to the main house.

“When are you returning to Istanbul?” Nora asked when Dante pulled up at the back of the house. She exited the jeep, and Dante followed suit and reached for the bag with the soil samples.

The jeep was used to work around the vineyard, so he left the keys in it. Dante followed his mother to the kitchen entrance.

“I have a lecture at Koc University this morning,” Dante said. “After, I’ll fly to the U.S.—”

“You’re responding to that woman’s summons,” Nora said, disapproving when she looked at him.

Nora did not like his ex-girlfriend. She thought Viola was not good enough for him. After all these years, Viola’s relationship with Nora remained strained. However, Viola was the mother of his two children. A result of his past stupid decisions. He could not change what he did to and with Viola. So, he tried to take responsibility, even though Nora did not like it.

“Mom, Zach, and April are my children,” Dante said as they entered the kitchen. His mother went to the sink to wash her hands, and Dante reached for his car keys in a holder on the kitchen counter. “At some point, we might need to take them both in or one of them. You know what happens when our gifts come in.”

“They are free of the bloodline,” Nora said, making Dante stop to stare at her in surprise. “I checked them, Dante, when I visited you in New York. Zach was two, and April was a baby. It was my duty as their grandmother, as it was your grandfather’s to support you. I found no energy in your children with Viola. They are normal, unremarkable.”

Dante scoffed at how she said the word normal, as though it were a crime. Dante sighed at the familiar tirade. His mother found his relationship with Viola the greatest failure of his life.

“Viola was never the right match for you,” Nora continued. “Dante, you know our family marries for love. You like men more than women. We have both known it since Grandmaster Landi started training you. I would have found a suitable girl if you wanted someone to make children with. I have no idea how you fell in with Viola—your time in New York with the Grandmaster failed you. You and Viola, it was the worst union I ever saw. I will never approve of her.”

“Zach and April remain your blood,” Dante said, his right brow rising in question.

“Of course,” Nora said. “I will always be their grandmother. They are welcome to visit our home. However, they do not have the power to own this house. When their descendants gain the gifts of our bloodline, this house will take them in.”

“What about Viola?” Dante asked.

“She is not welcome. She would not understand our way of life,” Nora stated. “I don’t need to educate you on why.”

Dante stared at her for a full minute and then nodded in understanding.

“When will you get the samples to the conservancy?” Nora asked, moving to the double tea maker to pour herself a glass.

“I’ll stop by before leaving the island,” Dante said. “Mom.”

Nora looked up from checking the tea.

“Don’t always blame Viola,” Dante said, giving her a small smile. “I was also at fault with her. I failed her.”

“You failed each other,” Nora corrected. “It was not easy to watch from my end. The saddest story here belongs to Zach and April. They will miss getting to know the real you. Perhaps your story is sad, too.”

“Why for me?” Dante asked with a frown.

Nora let out a soft sigh.

“Because you never learned how to fall in love,” Nora said. “Viola will love again, and so will Zach and April. You on the other hand…”

Nora shook her head and returned her attention to the tea maker.

Dante watched her pour herself a tea and wished he could refute her conclusions.

Dante turned to enter the corridor to head to the front hall. He took a step, and the house started shaking—walls vibrating, windows opening and closing. The house came alive, vibrating, shaking items on shelves, chairs, and tables.

Dante stepped back into the kitchen to make sure his mother was safe. He found all the ingredient containers from the cabinets, cups, spoons, plates, and even his mother’s favorite tea maker suspended in the air. His mother stood in the middle, having a cup of tea. Gold sparks decorated the tips of her fingers on her left hand. She smiled at Dante.

“Looks like your ancestors have something to say,” Nora said. “The grimoire must have opened downstairs.”

Dante nodded, and with a wave of his hand, his magic restored his mother’s kitchen to rights. He hurried into the corridor and opened the door leading him to the basement halls. He ran to see what would make their family’s grimoire come alive.

*~*~*~*

“I’ve found him,” Tom King reported to his boss, his gaze on the pictures of a handsome Turkish man walking into Koç University in Istanbul. “He is an archeologist who teaches ancient world history at the university.”

“I don’t need to know his career. What is his name? Where does he live?”

“His name is Dante Arturo. I apologize. We are still trying to work out his family’s history. We’re only able to find his professional credentials. His primary address is an apartment close to the university. However, he does visit the United States often.”

“Why?”

Tom paused, sifting through the documents on his desk.

“Our investigator has pictures of a modest house in a suburban area. Uh, the address listed is in Kirtland, Ohio. I’ll forward it to you.”

“Thank you, Tom.”

“When are you returning home?” Tom asked. “Hera has asked about you. You have not called in for a month. Hera worries, and so does your uncle.”

“I’m… I’m trying to make a decision. Forward me the picture and address in Istanbul. Thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome, Babu.”

*~*~*~*

“What a morning,” Nora said, shaking her head as she read the heavy book standing open on a large desk in their basement. “We find corrupt soil in the olive grove, and the house opens the grimoire to a warning. We’re having a sinister day. Are you sure you should fly out today?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Dante said, moving to stand next to his mother.

He kissed her cheek and brought his attention to the warning she was reading.

“The Artri heir’s betrayal of Ryuzo wins Ryuzo a lifetime of hardship and pain. The right choice shall break the cycle,” Dante read the warning aloud. “This symbol, a compound elder leaf with five leaflets, is familiar. The Grandmaster made me memorize the list of families with the power. I have seen it with two families like ours. However, their symbols are usually a compound elder leaf with three or two leaflets, not five. The warning continues, ‘Pass this warning down generations. There are only two left. If we skip one, the second must make the right choice.’ End of warning.”

Dante traced a finger over the old blue silk fabric holding the words embroidered in white. It was sewn into the grimoire for safekeeping. Dante had never seen the silk page in the grimoire before. Then again, this was usual of spells hidden by influential family members.

“The use of the name Artri meant the person who gave the warning existed in the early nineteenth century,” Nora said. “Our ancestors used Artri as a last name then. It was the sole reason why the family home was named Artri. We changed to Arturo in the early nineteen twenties.”

“I’m not married,” Dante said, meeting Nora’s gaze. “I have children, yes, but Zach has no power. How is this warning for me?”

“The warning is for me,” Nora said. “You’re my first-born son. The one with the power. Your choice is what is supposed to be the right one.”

“Right choice for what?” Dante asked. “Who is this Ryuzo who faces a lifetime of hardship?”

“I don’t know,” Nora said, her tone thoughtful. “However, if a warning has appeared in our Artri grimoire, you will meet him soon. What is of interest is the type of choice that makes this warning relevant. Enough for our house to shake and tremble to let you know this choice is important.”

Dante frowned, tracing the first part of the warning with his index finger.

“Artri heir’s betrayal of Ryuzo,” Dante read. “Seems my past has hurt someone enough for it to be considered a betrayal. The only person I have betrayed is Viola, Mom. I could not give her the love she gave me.”

“I know,” Nora said, letting out a soft sigh. “We’ll figure it out.”

Dante’s phone buzzed, and he reached for it from his pocket. He found a message from his friend, asking if he had arrived at the Elderwood Conservancy.

“You should go,” Nora said. “Take the samples. I’ll check out our history records and find out who Ryuzo is and why our house has betrayed him before.”

Glancing at the time on his phone, Dante sighed. His lecture was in two hours. He needed to make a move to get to the conservancy and then take the ferry to the mainland. It was going to be a busy Thursday.

“I’ll be back by Tuesday.”

“Alright,” Nora said. “Be careful, Dante.”

“I will, Mom.”

*~*~*~*

Dante followed his navigator to find the Elderwood Conservancy. It was strange how he had grown up on this island and never known a conservancy existed there. An understated green gate was the only deterrent to entering the dirt path leading to the property. Dante started to put his car in park to enter, but a guard appeared from the small office near the gate. He opened the gate with a nod, not asking Dante any questions.

Dante frowned and thanked the man as he drove down the dirt road. Five minutes later, he found two roads branching on different sides. The one on the right side had thicker bushes and looked less used. The road on the left had a single sign saying ‘main office.’ Dante turned his black SUV toward the primary office.

Ten minutes later, he sat staring at the building housing the conservancy in pleasant surprise. It was a fortress, complete with four towers and a courtyard. Fifteenth-century Ottoman architecture, Dante grinned. The walls looked well-maintained. The guardians of the Elderwood Conservancy took their job seriously. The only blight on the authentic building was the front entrance. It was very modern, with glass walls showing off a reception hall.

Dante reached for the bag holding his soil samples and exited the car. He hurried to the entrance, eager to see what the inside looked like. Dante entered, heading to the receptionist’s desk. She smiled in welcome, but before he could reach her, a man in his late twenties entered the reception hall from a corridor beyond.

“Welcome to Elderwood. I’m Tom King.”

“Dante Arturo.”

“We rarely get visitors who aren’t planned,” Tom said. “The gatekeeper alerted us that you were on your way. How may I help you?”

Dante held up the bag with his sample soils.

“Mr. King, I’m here to request for assistance. Our vineyard on the island’s other side faces an invasion of corrupted soil. We cannot find the cause. Professor Roberto heard about our dilemma and sent me to your conservancy,” Dante said. “He says you have researchers who test soil on the island.”

“Yes, we do,” Tom said, his interest growing. “Are you saying you have a vineyard here in Aretias?”

“Yes, Arturo Vineyards. They are a family enterprise,” Dante said with a proud smile. “My mother looks after them. I’m a World History professor based in Istanbul. I met Professor Roberto at Koc University. He referred me to your organization.”

“Roberto is a good man,” Tom said. “He is a longtime friend of Elderwood. Roberto called me yesterday and told me a desperate colleague would stop by. He never told me your name. We would have been more ready. This is very interesting,” Tom pointed to Dante’s bag. “May I take this from you?”

“Yes.” Dante handed Tom the bag with the soil samples. “How long will it take to discover what is wrong with the soil?”

“I can only tell you once our lab technician gets a good look,” Tom said. “We should have an answer for you by tomorrow morning.”

Dante reached for his wallet and found his card. He handed it to Tom.

“You can call me at any time,” Dante said. “Our vineyard is eager to solve the problem. The rot is growing in our olive grove, and we’re worried it will reach the vines. The loss would be unimaginable. I would also like to know if it is reversible. I do not want to lose our old olive trees.”

“We’ll help however we can,” Tom said.

Dante nodded and looked to the corridor beyond the receptionist, trying to catch a glimpse of the interior of the main fortress building.

“Uh,” Dante started. “Would it be possible to step into the courtyard? I mean—would it be okay to see the fortress? Am I being rude?”

Tom chuckled.

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first to ask. I’m sorry I can’t let you go in, though. The entrances into the courtyard are under construction,” Tom said. “It is a necessary effort. The building is ancient, and you’ve come when we’re undertaking serious restoration efforts.”

“Wow, I would love to be part of such a project,” Dante said, excited by the prospect. “I have students who would love a visit to this place. Is it possible to arrange a tour, even during the restoration process? I think it would be educational.”

“We have never considered doing it, but I’m sure it is possible. I would have to make arrangements with the conservancy’s staff,” Tom said. “I’ll talk it over with everyone here and let you know what we decide when I call about the soil samples.”

“Perfect,” Dante said. “I can’t believe I’m only discovering about this place now.”

“We are found at the right time,” Tom replied.

What a strange way to word it, Dante thought. His phone beeped, and he reached for it, finding a message from his overworked TA.

“I’m running late for a lecture. I have to go,” Dante said with a sigh. “Mr. King, I’m interested in a tour of your fortress. I hope your response is positive. Thank you again for agreeing to check on our soil samples. The vineyard will handle the invoices if you send them to us. The email address is on the card I’ve given you.”

“I’ll make sure to call you tomorrow,” Tom said.

Dante thanked Tom again and left the building, rushing to his car. He opened the driver’s door and stopped when he felt an oppressive force in the woods closest to the building. Dante turned and looked at the forest with a frown. The powerful force retreated, and he released a soft sigh, relieved. Dante saw nothing in the woods, no person standing in the shadows.

Dante frowned. Maybe he was imagining things. Shaking his head, he got in his car and drove out of the conservancy.

*~*~*~*

“Babu, Dante has been at the conservancy,” Tom reported, staring at the bag filled with soil sample containers.

“What does he want?”

“A soil analysis,” Tom said. “He says his family has a vineyard on our island, Aretias. It is called Arturo Vineyards. I can’t believe he was so close to us. I’ve not heard of them.”

“He is very close…”

Tom waited as his boss’s voice trailed off in thought.

“It feels like there is something I have not accounted for. Start the analysis right away. Do it yourself, Tom. Let me know what the report says when you finish.”

“I’ll get it done,” Tom said. “Also, he wants a tour of the fortress. I’m guessing it’s the archeologist in him making the request. He wants to bring a few students with him.”

“He has a lot of wants. Uncle Amu will have more to say about the tour. I don’t care.”

“Amu Ryuzo has long left you to run us all,” Tom said.

“He has?” A lazy sigh. “I suppose he has. Then, Tom, it’s up to you. You decide.”

The call ended.

Tom stood in the reception hall staring at the black bag from Dante Arturo filled with soil samples. It felt like the start of another great strife was imminent.

****