by Nathan Parks
The Rise
by
Nathan Parks
© 2019. Nathan E. Parks. All Rights Reserved.
Editing and Layout by Sheila R. Muñoz, EdD, [email protected].
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without written permission from the copyright owner.
Dedicated to
Ethan, Kyler, Eli, Alyssa, and Ambrea
May you always be true to yourself, strong enough to face your fears, courageous enough to acknowledge your mistakes, and humble enough to never overlook a chance to serve.
Acknowledgements
As the original three books come to a close, I am full of many emotions. The world has changed so much since the first sentence of The Nephelium was written, yet it has remained so much the same.
When I wrote that first sentence, I never could have comprehended how much these characters would resonate, not just with me, but also with the fans. Over the years I have had many of you come up and thank me for allowing you the chance to experience this world. You have shared how you have seen yourself within individuals such as Eve, Leah, Kadar, and even Alfonso.
This, in no way, is the end to the series. There are many stories still to tell, new friends and foes to discover, and doors that have yet to be opened. With that said, there is no way that any of what is found within the first three books could have happened without you, the fans, taking the time to read, to invest in, and truly to soak in the legends, stories, and characters. From the bottom of my heart I point to you! You did this! I was just the conduit of the information—a Watcher, if you please.
I need to acknowledge the sacrifice of my family, also. When I began to first write the series, my second son was just a baby, and my youngest was not even born. Now they both are in high school. My oldest son is now in college, and there was so much that I pulled from his innocent view as a little boy, which taught me how to see the world through the eyes of another.
My two daughters have been woven into the threads of the pages. I watched as they faced challenges head-on and became strong, female warriors.
My wife held me when I was discouraged, praised me as I met milestones, and sat silently many days and nights as the wheels within my head turned.
As I walked with characters within the series who struggled with who they were and how the world accepted them or rejected them, I saw many glimpses and reflections of my dads. I was overwhelmed with compassion and love. I was grateful that I was able to see through their eyes as I walked with different characters.
Throughout these three books there is a clear presence of the strong, female warrior, the mother who would fight, and the broken heart of the lady who felt as the world had left her behind broken. As I look back over these moments, I see the outline of my mother. I also must express my gratitude to her, for if it was not for the hard dedication of my mother's education that she passed on to me or for her focus on editing and layout, this series would have never reached this point.
If you, the reader, truly read between the lines, you will discover much more within this series. There are “Easter eggs,” if you please, to discover throughout; and I want to thank many of my lifelong friends who have supported me completely.
Last, but not least, I want to thank the amazing brothers with whom I had the honor and privilege of serving in the military. These are men who are my true Alliance. They are the faces of true, loyal brotherhood and alliance.
I could go on and on; but then again, it is time for you to sit back, grab a cup of coffee from Alfonso's café, and enjoy the conclusion of this portion of The Eternals.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
914 AD
1431 AD
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Epilogue
Glossary
Author’s Social Media Information
914 AD
The wind howled around him. His horse hung its head low. He could feel major changes in the air, and he wasn’t sure what to do. If he stopped, he very well could find himself snowed in for days, if not weeks. If he kept pressing onward, it could mean certain death; but it also meant he was closer to home.
He was grateful that the temperature had dropped so much that most of his body was going numb; at least the large gash that cut deep into his left leg was numb. He looked down, and he could see that the rags with which he had tied it off almost reached the point of saturation.
“Blast all of this!” he yelled into the roaring wind.
To his right was the mountain wall, and just a foot or so to his left was a drop off. He held his mount as close to the wall as he could and pulled his cloak around him tighter. Determination set his face, and he knew that he had to finish this journey. The cargo he carried was not heavy to the load but heavy on his spirit. It had to be kept safe, and the eternal value of it was priceless.
Briccius had travelled from Constantinople where he had finished up his duty as a knight. There, before he left, he had been given a precious gift—small in size, but large in purpose and power. A priest had shared with him that it was no longer safe in the city, and he was to become its protector. The priest explained to him that someday, when the time was right, someone would be sent for it; but until then, he was given the honor and duty to guard it, even if it be with his life.
Several large rocks came tumbling loose from the weight of the snow. They barely missed him and startled his horse. He kept his ride in check but, in doing so, found himself almost thrown from the saddle.
“Sure, let’s fall and tear into the other leg; and that way I can bleed out on the mountainside.”
It was starting to snow again, but he could see the path was winding downward into a valley. He figured that if he could at least get off the mountain pass, he would be able to find
somewhere in the valley floor a place to wait out the storm.
It took about another 30 minutes for him to get on stable ground, and he still had about another 15 to 20 minutes until he was all the way down into the flat area between some of the larger peaks. He was hungry, and the rations he had brought along with him had been eaten down to a few pieces of bread and dried fruit. He just wanted to be home.
“Well, Lastrada, I guess we are about done until this storm moves on,” he spoke through the growing storm winds to his horse. “Time to find a place to hunker down.”
Ahead he observed what appeared to be an area where rocks had slidden away, producing a hollowed-out spot on the side of the trail. There was an overhang there, and the side of the mountain would help keep some of the weather off. The snow was now falling so hard and heavily that it was becoming difficult to even see just a few feet in front of him.
He dismounted from his horse; and they both huddled against the rock face, using the overhang to keep as much of the frozen wetness off them as they could. The knight knew he needed to find a way to start a fire, but there appeared to be no wood or kindling worth even noting.
Now that he was moving around, he could feel the burning sensation in his leg again. It was time to change the bandages. The deep wound was a result of his leg being pierced by a sharp, broken branch after his horse had been startled. Since he was out alone, he must suck it up, move forward, and do what he could.
There were still several bandages left that he had made from an old tunic. He had stashed them away inside a satchel. The delight was evident on his face when he realized that the weather had not penetrated the satchel and made the bandages wet.
“You have to find the little things to be happy about,” he muttered through chattering teeth.
He found a rock that appeared to have been protected from the elements beneath the overhang. He sat on it and opened up the bag that held the clean pieces of cloth. He carefully began to unwrap the blood-soaked bandages on his leg and cringed at the pain that was radiating up into his hip. He gave a low whistle as he looked at the wound. The cold was probably helping it, but it still looked really bad.
“Wonder if this is going to cause a limp?” he pondered. “Will have to come up with some war story for this one, even if it ends up just being a scar.”
He melted some snow in his hands with his breath and used it to clean some of the wound. Lastrada moved in closer to his master; and in doing so, he knocked over the satchel. Briccius grabbed for it, but was unable to keep it from falling and scattering its contents.
“Oh, come on!”
There were many of the homemade bandages he was able to pick up before they became too wet. Then something caught his eye. He reached down and quickly picked up a small vial that had come to rest underneath a few rocks.
“Sure, win all kinds of battles, come home with scars and stories to share, but then lose the one thing that could change the destiny of man—that would be epic and disastrous all at once!”
He held the vial in the palm of his hand. It almost appeared as the small glass container had been formed around the liquid itself; there was no apparent seal or opening.
“The craftsmanship is amazing,” he said to himself in awe.
A chain looped through a small, metal eyelet that was attached to the top of the bottle. Inside was a deep red liquid.
“The power of all powers. How did I, once just a farmer, have the honor of becoming a knight and now a Guardian of such a holy relic?”
His hands seemed warmer as he held it in his hands.
His horse began to stomp nervously.
“Careful, Old Boy. I don’t need anything else getting knocked over.”
Lastrada did not calm down. He began to become more agitated as he stomped around.
“What has you so nervous? You are going to make me stand up, aren’t you?”
As long as he kept weight off his left leg, he was fine. He stood up and began to pat the horse’s neck. That is when he heard it: it sounded like a large beast had been awakened somewhere above him. There was a roar and a loud, rushing sound that grew even louder. Rocks started falling around him. He quickly threw himself underneath the overhang as the rolling avalanche descended upon them both. There was an awful scream from his horse that crushed his soul as he realized that this journey, if continued, would have to be a solo journey.
The sound of the avalanche was deafening: the roar, the crashing of rocks, and the breaking of trees above him. Then came darkness and silence. Briccius found himself buried beneath the overhang under feet of hard-packed snow and rock. There was no light, and the space barely allowed him to curl up in a ball. The silence was the villain. It was quiet—nothing—just simply quiet . . . and also very cold.
His bones and muscles ached. He tried to stretch out, but he was unable to clear enough snow for him to fully extend himself outward. He had stopped shivering a while ago and now felt tired. He just wanted to sleep, and then maybe he could find some strength to dig his way out.
“Wake up, Warrior.”
“I just need to rest a little bit more. Please. If I rest, I can then continue my journey.”
“Your journey is complete. You have been brave and loyal beyond what could have been asked of you.”
“I do not understand. I have done nothing more than what I was called to do.”
The soft, female voice whispered gently and caringly, “There is a difference between answering the call of a warrior and bringing with that call the heart of a servant; a servant warrior is what you have become.”
“So, I have reached home?”
“Open your eyes, Strong One. You have reached the end of your journey.”
Briccius opened his eyes and could not find any words to express what he saw. He was no longer trapped within rock and snow, but he was lying on a soft bed with thick coverings. He felt a summer breeze blow in from a window that was to his right, and standing beside the bed was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.
Her skin was flawless. Her eyes were deep and passionate, full of vibrant life. Her hair hung down her back in a cascade of iridescence. She was dressed in a gown that draped around her body like willow branches gracing the banks of a brook.
“Who are you? How . . . how did I get here?”
“I am Eden,” she stated with a hint of music in her voice.
He remembered his wound, quickly sat up, and then looked down at his left leg. There was not even a scar.
“Is this real? I was hurt. There should be bandages . . . or at least a scar!”
“I made sure you were taken care of, Briccius.”
All of a sudden, he remembered the vial. He looked around frantically.
“What happened to it?”
Eden walked quietly over to the small table next to his bed.
“I imagine you are talking about this?” She held up the small trinket. “You did well. You protected it. It is safe.”
“I don’t understand.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and placed her hand upon his chest.
“You are no longer in the world of your understanding, Sir. You are in the place where you are able to now rest.”
Reality began to sink in. He knew he should be worried—maybe even scared—but he just sank back onto the bed.
“You mean that I am dead?”
“No, I mean you are actually, for the first time, truly alive. Yes, dead within mortality, but alive beyond the blinders of time and space.”
“So, I really didn’t protect the vial? It is lost! Do you know what it is? Are you aware of what it holds?”
“Yes, I do know; and yes, even with the separation of your spiritual existence from your physical existence, your last act was that of nobility. The vial is safe.”
“Are you real?”
She laughed, “I am as real as anything that is not created can be real.”
“I don’t understand that answer.”
“Sir, I am
the Mother of Reality, the Energy of Life; so before real became reality, I was, and I am, and I will be.”
1431 AD
“You can’t be serious! She has tried to escape several times on her own, Michael! If we don’t step in and do something, she is going to be burned at the stake! We can’t lose her!”
“We or you? Leah, you will do what we are asking you to do. You must have faith that we are doing what is best for the bigger picture and not just what you are able to see from where you stand.”
“Bigger picture? I am a Guardian! You asked me to be a Guardian of her, and that is what I am trying to do.”
Gabriel looked over to the Council leader.
“Michael, she has a point.”
“And I am not saying she doesn’t, but she also has to listen and trust what we are asking her to do.”
The leader of the Council looked at the Guardian before him. She was full of spirit and passion; this made her an amazing Guardian, but it also made it hard to guide her.
“Leah, one day you may very well be an Alliance Leader and maybe even have a seat here with the Council, and then you will understand the respect I have for your passion . . . yet, the frustration I also have.”
She took a deep breath and let it out.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I really am, but since the moment we were able to get Rephaim out of Babylon, I have been the Guardian of many of his descendants. Joan is more than just Nephelium. She has given everything she has to the cause. Yes, many of her relatives have been amazing; but she . . . well, she is extraordinary! She has led mortal man into battles against an enemy that they didn’t even understand!”
“I don’t disagree with you, but she was captured; and now she is being held by the House of Hecate. I agree: we need to do what we can to protect her; but if you do anything out of the ordinary, then you also will be discovered. Right now, they believe you to be a simple handmaiden. That is it. If the Clan would discover that you are her Guardian, then not only will her true identity be revealed as a Nephelium, but yours, as well. You both could face certain death.”