The Rising Past: Book 2 in The Keepers of the Orbs Series

by J. G. Gatewood

  “Rest assured I would love nothing more.” He watched Raythum climb into the saddle in preparation of his flight. “Safe travels, my friend.”

  “Thank you,” Raythum replied. “And Milenthia would like to thank you for your graciousness as well.”

  Ulor walked over to the Dragon and rubbed her snout. “Take care of the young man.” She nodded her head.

  Ulor stepped back to give her room. She spread her wings, and with one final wave, they flew out the opening and into the crisp, early-morning, blue sky, disappearing behind the tall, jagged peaks of the Ruvenka Mountains.

  Tirell’s Transformation

  Outside the city of Havenbrook, the leaves of the elm and maple trees had turned brown and deep scarlet before dropping to the ground, marking the start of autumn. Raythum gazed out a window overlooking the palace courtyard. The temperature had dropped in the last week; off in the distance smoke billowed out of several chimneys in the lower rings of the city. He spotted several Kahloom walking the streets near the merchant ring, and it reminded him of the battle a year and a half before. Much had changed since then, and a number of Kahloom had taken up a permanent residence in Havenbrook.

  His father looked much older now and Raythum worried about his health. Tirell seemed more withdrawn and secluded. Raythum feared his older brother was reverting to his old, bad habits again. Needless to say, Raythum had much on his mind these days.

  Movement caught Raythum’s attention. He saw a shrouded individual walk out into the courtyard, intriguing Raythum as he watched. From his vantage point, the figure looked mysterious, and walked as if he were trying not to garner any attention. He stayed to the shadows and made his way to the eastern gate, before disappearing altogether into the thick forest surrounding the city. Under normal situations, the prince would ignore the mysterious man, but something just didn’t feel right. He wanted to consult Milenthia, but she had traveled to Agripina earlier, leaving him on his own.

  Curiosity soon got the better of him. He grabbed his cloak and proceeded out to the forest. He didn’t know where the person had gone, but he had a general idea. He stayed close to the thick tree trunks, careful not to make noise while stepping in the thick underbrush. Although he thought he moved in the same direction as the person he followed, he hadn’t had any luck finding him yet.

  He wanted to give up, when he caught an orange glimmer out of the corner of his eye, then another, and another. He suspected this must be the destination and sought out a hiding place where he would have a clear view.

  He crouched down behind an oak tree several yards away. The mystery figure slid back the hood on his cloak, and Raythum was not at all surprised to see his brother. This was just the kind of thing he was worried about where Tirell was concerned. What is he up to? He thought.

  Tirell stood in a large clearing between thick boughs of oak and maple trees. On the ground sat several smooth white stones arranged into a unique shape. Many torches extended from the aged trunks of some of the older and larger trees. Tirell uttered words Raythum didn’t understand. He looked to the sky and spun in a counter-clockwise direction while he continued to chant. A dim, white light emanated from the outer stones in the formation, growing brighter.

  Tirell continued his slow spin as his chants grew louder. More white light burst from the ground in pulses, much brighter than the outer circle of light. Raythum stared on, almost hypnotized by the dancing lights. He had no idea what he was witnessing, but just the sight of it brought about a certain beauty. It was as if the stones had a life force of their own, sending forth their energy in high-packed, explosive pulses. Tirell’s chant changed and transformed into a guttural, angry tone. Instead of spinning in a circle, he began a dance. Not a dance like one someone would do at a ball, but a dance nevertheless; one that felt dark and dangerous to watch, not at all beautiful or graceful.

  Raythum found himself almost in a trance. He couldn’t blink his eyes nor could he turn his head away. He had to bring his hands up in front of his eyes to break the stare he had on Tirell. Blinking brought tears to his dry eyes.

  The whole experience left his nerves rattled and he wanted to rush out and stop his brother from continuing. He stood up, ready to rush out when a voice in his head told him he shouldn’t. He had to restrain each and every one of his normal urges—as if he were holding back his own body—to stand back and resume his viewing. If, somehow it were to come down to a battle, he would be ill-prepared because he didn’t bring Narantha, nor did he wear any armor. He only had the small dirk he always carried.

  Suddenly all of the white light changed to a bright, deep red light shooting out of the ground in an explosion. He had to shade his eyes, but saw Tirell walking toward the center of the stones. He raised his hands and face to the sky.

  Black tendrils grew from the ground—like vines climbing a wall—before spreading out around Tirell. They circled and spun, surrounding him. With his arms still outstretched and his head facing the sky, he rose—almost levitating—climbing higher and higher until he floated a couple of feet in the air. His whole body spun in a circle and Tirell moaned; not a moan of agony, but a deep, guttural moan reminiscent of his chanting from just moments before.

  The red light started pulsing in a random sequence of flashing lights. He felt himself falling back into a trance and averted his eyes while he still could. He felt a deep rumbling from beneath his feet. The earth shook and shuddered; large jagged rocks shot up and protruded in several places. Raythum watched his brother rise farther up into the air as the pulsing lights picked up speed. The red light exploded in a brilliant flash, blinding Raythum and forcing him to shut his eyes again.

  When he opened them, he noticed his brother lying on the ground in a heap. He started making his way to help him, when he noticed shifting. He jumped behind another large trunk. Many thoughts coursed through his mind. He didn’t know if he should be angry or worried.

  Tirell groaned and tried to get up. His movements were slow, but he finally made his way to his feet and turned to look at the clearing. The wet, green, ground, thick with underbrush and foliage, looked charred. Raythum wasn’t sure what the pulses of light had been, but they must have been powerful. It took a lot of heat to burn wet plant life.

  Raythum gasped when his brother turned and faced him. His gasp wasn’t because they faced each other—after all, Raythum hoped the thick trunk concealed his position well— but his brother’s appearance had changed. The bones in his face looked more chiseled and refined, providing harder angles to his jaw. His skin was tighter and paler, giving him a younger outward appearance. The most startling feature was his eyes. They had turned a deep red color that Raythum could see even from the long distance separating them. They presented an even more demonic and angry look than Tirell had possessed before, and it churned Raythum’s stomach. Oh my brother, what have you done? You don’t even look the same, he thought with rising panic.

  His time for deep thinking lasted briefly. His brother dusted off his cloak—it had gathered dirt when he fell to the ground, annoying him. He turned and began walking back toward Havenbrook, sending dread coursing through Raythum’s body. What does this change mean? He was very afraid of the sudden change in his older brother. He needed to warn his father and Norlun so they could stop him, but he couldn’t beat his brother back to town—not without alerting him to his presence. He froze and watched in silence as his brother walked by. He slowed his breathing and tried to stay as quiet as possible, until Tirell walked well out of range. He wished Milenthia hadn’t picked today—of all days—to travel out of their communication range, but thought it Tirell’s purposeful timing so that he wouldn’t be disturbed in whatever he was trying to do.

  He left his hiding spot and made his way out of the forest, no longer caring if he made any noise. The evening air turned cool and Raythum left a large cloud with each exhale of his warm breath. He spotted the dim evening lights of Havenbrook and hoped he would be back in the safe confines of the city walls
soon, but would his city be safe with his brother in it?

  He entered the city through the eastern gates and nodded to the guards on duty. They seemed surprised to see him. He spotted the commander on duty. The young soldier had progressed through the ranks and achieved his commendation of lieutenant in record time. “Did my brother come through here recently?” he asked.

  Raythum had never addressed the young man before, and he appeared too nervous to reply at first. Recovering himself he said, “Yes, sir! It is a pretty regular occurrence for him to arrive in town at odd hours. He likes to walk the forest. Is something wrong?” The commander questioned.

  “I’m afraid there is. Did you see which way he went?” Raythum asked.

  The lieutenant nodded his head. “Yes, sir, he headed toward the rear of the palace. He seemed out of sorts and in a hurry. He shrouded his face with his cloak. Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, eager to be of service to his prince.

  “I think I can handle my brother, but notify my father and Norlun I need to speak with them at once. I bring urgent news and they need to be on alert.” He looked toward the palace. “I don’t know what my brother is up to, but I it cannot be good.” Before he finished speaking, Raythum had already begun walking in a quickened pace, impatient to find his brother’s trail.

  He stormed into the palace, utilizing the rear service door, and hunted for his brother. He questioned anyone he saw as to his brother’s whereabouts. No one had seen him. Angrily, he ran up to the third floor and banged on his door. “Tirell! I know you are in there. Come out!” He waited, but the room sounded silent. He banged again. “Tirell!” but still no answer.

  Where could he have gone? He thought. The lieutenant said he came this way. A realization flooded his body. There is only one place in the palace a person could disappear. He wanted to go to his quarters to grab Narantha, but suspected he didn’t have time. He figured if he ran into trouble, he could use his dirk to bail him out, hopefully. He was nervous and his skin felt clammy.

  He took the stairs back down to the main level two at a time, shoving others out of his way. He spotted the lieutenant he had sent to alert his father and Norlun of Tirell’s odd behavior. “When you find them, tell them I have followed Tirell to the vault.” The soldier looked confused and stopped walking. “Hurry!” he spat.

  Raythum watched the lieutenant disappear and proceeded to the opposite end. He looked around to ensure no one watched him. When he felt it safe, he placed his hand on the stone veneer of the wall. The outline of a door materialized in a bright, white light and cracked open. Raythum pushed on it and revealed the curved metal stairway leading down deep below the palace. The corridor smelled dank and wet, and sat in pitch-black darkness. He ran back to the main hall and grabbed a torch from the wall, before descending into the bowels of the palace.

  He walked down the cold metal stairs; each step rang heavy through the corridor, breaking the empty silence. He heard the patter of little feet scurrying through the dark. He reached the bottom of the staircase and found himself in a long tunnel, lit on both sides by sconces producing a haunting, orange glow.

  He fingered the hilt of his dirk, comforted by the fact he carried some sort of a weapon into this unknown task. He knew the vault would be a long walk and well-secured. The feeling inside the musty, confined hall was thick and foreboding. Each footfall was another step toward a confrontation with his brother, and it put him on edge.

  He reached the end of the hall and spotted the lone wooden door, rimmed in large iron bands, sitting in the thick cobbles of the stone wall. If one were to somehow stumble into the corridor, they would arrive at the door with no way to open it. It had no handle or knob to speak of, just the smooth wooden planks and cold metal bands holding it all together.

  He felt the familiar warmth from beneath his breastplate. He reached down and pulled out his Keeper medallion, which glowed red hot. He leaned forward and pressed the medallion up against the door. He heard clicking sounds from deep inside, and after a moment, it creaked open on its own.

  He scanned the octagonal shaped room. On three of the walls, fires blazed inside large hearths. Raythum walked into the room as the door closed, and the locks clicked back into place. The room felt warm and comforting, but he understood the fires were false and nothing actually burned within the hearths. In fact, Norlun had created the entire illusion of the room with his spark.

  He eyed the large circular platform standing in the center of the room. On the platform stood a pedestal, and on the pedestal stood an orb. He noticed a cloaked man standing next to the orb, eying it with greed. His brother had to be aware of his presence, but he walked forward anyway. He climbed the stairs and ran the fingers of his right hand over the orb. He could feel the energy contained within. He traced the outline while he walked around it to confront his brother.

  “If it isn’t my infamous Brother!” the cloaked figure spat. “I should’ve known it would be you who would come after me. You have to realize you cannot stop me. I have a purpose and this is only the beginning.” Tirell removed the hood of his cloak and revealed his face for the first time. Up close, it looked even more menacing than it had in the forest.

  “Tirell. What have you done to yourself? I watched you transform in the forest. What could you hope to gain by doing this?” Raythum’s urgency and concern sounded in his voice.

  Tirell laughed. It came out as a gurgle crackling in his throat. “How little you know.” He shook his head. “You think you understand me. You think you know what is going on. My name is no longer Tirell.” His red eyes almost flickered in the well-lit room. “I have been transformed for a higher calling. You may refer to me as Lutheras.”

  Raythum’s face registered his anger and bewilderment. “Tirell! You are a sworn Keeper of the orbs. You have made an oath to protect the orbs; never to use one, and to always see that they remain hidden. Now you intend to throw all of it away…for what? To follow in the footsteps of that absurd wizard, Luther?”

  Anger flashed into Lutheras’ eyes. “You don’t understand. You have always been favored—the second son, yet the heir to Havenbrook. Father chose you over me. Do you understand what it can do to a person's mind?” Lutheras watched and waited, noticing his brother’s hand traveling toward the hilt of his dirk. “He chose you because you were always the stronger one. You were always better with swords. The procedure you witnessed, infused Luther’s powers into my body, and with it, I will be unstoppable. I will be the strong one. What you might call foolish, or absurd, I call my path to glory.” His voice quieted showing his utter faith in what he said.

  He reached one hand toward the orb, and raised the other, leveling it at his brother. Lightning crackled from Lutheras’ fingertips and plunged into his brother’s chest, sending him falling backwards toward the stone wall. He narrowly missed landing in one of the fireplaces. Lutheras laughed as he let more lightning fly from his fingertips, delighting in hurting his brother at last.

  Lutheras approached his brother, who still lay on the floor, reeling from the energy attacking his body. The lightning spread throughout, revealing the bones lying beneath, yielding a picture into his anatomy. Lutheras continued stalking toward him, bright white energy flooding his opponent. “You have no idea what you are up against, brother! You should’ve stayed away, left my little secret alone. Nobody would’ve blamed you. Now you get to be a witness as I use this wondrous device.” He stopped the attacks as he stood over his cringing brother; wanting Raythum to witness his glory with clear eyes.

  Lutheras placed his other hand on the orb and a yellow glow emanated from it. His face erupted in a large grin while an overwhelming power flooded into his body from the orb. He reveled in the sinuous feeling, wanting to soak it all in. His body was invigorated by the power now flowing through him. The glowing light pulsed; slowly at first, then picked up speed.

  In obvious pain, Raythum stood. Lutheras seemed no longer aware of his surroundings, transfixed on the orb and the po
wer it unleashed. The grin on his face broadened; the influence of the orb spread throughout, filling him with bliss and delight. “My future lies in the past, where no one will be able to stop me!” he yelled, a look of ecstasy covering his gaunt face.

  Raythum made his way to a knee, unsure of what to do, he just watched for a moment. He wished he had taken the time to grab Narantha before facing his brother. He could’ve saved himself a lot of undo pain from the shield the blade offered. He noticed how close the pulses of light grew as Lutheras uttered incoherent words. His voice rose while the control grew and the pulses appeared as almost one light.

  Raythum’s thoughts raced, he had a split second to think of something. He reached up and grabbed a hold of the orb. The light cascaded from him now too—turning from a yellow glow to a dark orange—giving the illusion the two men fought for control of the artifact in front of the setting sun. Bright rays of light surrounded them while they each clamored for control of the orb. Lutheras snarled in agitation, pulling with all of his might and wrangling the orb free from his brother. Raythum fell forward.

  In a last ditch effort, he reached up and grabbed the medallion from his brother's neck. It shouldn’t have been possible to remove it, but somehow it snapped loose. He pulled it out while the pulsing light turned yellow again.

  Raythum held his brother’s medallion in the palm of his hand, unaware of the heat emanating from it that burned into the flesh there. The glowing light turned solid, and then exploded throughout the room in a blinding, flashing glare. Lutheras disappeared, as if he had never existed to begin with. Tears streaked down his face. He couldn’t believe what his brother had done. He threw away his entire life in an attempt to grab power. He expected his family, those who loved him even with his transgressions, to accept his decision and allow him to run amuck in another time. Sadness overwhelmed him and he wanted to sob. How could it have all gone so wrong? He asked himself.