Raythum looked at his soldiers and proceeded to the portal. He felt a tingling sensation spread through his body as he walked through. The emptiness on the other side left him feeling unprepared. White space with four portals stretched out before him, as promised, but devoid of all sound, smell, and temperature, as if they were in a vacuum. It all felt disconcerting.
The four portals were each a different color. He walked over to the dark blue one on the far left. Normally each step he took would make a sound, but he found himself moving in absolute silence, and felt disoriented because everything stretched out in pure white. He had to focus on the portals to gauge his direction and distance because there was no end between the ground and the horizon. His stomach began to feel queasy and he had to fight to control his stomach.
Upon reaching the blue portal, he heard a shimmering sound behind him. He turned to see Tirell walk through with his entourage. He turned back and focused on the portals.
“Well, brother. Because you seem to be favored in this test, I will let you choose which portal you want to go through.” He smirked toward his brother.
“Norlun and father already made the choice. But thank you for your graciousness.” Raythum turned back to his endeavor without another glance toward his brother.
Tirell grinned. “Just be grateful I’m following their rules now that we are on the other side and out of their control.”
Raythum walked down the line. He listened and felt as he passed each one, waiting for one of them to speak to him. He found himself drawn to the green portal and walked back over to it. He had an overwhelming urge to walk through this one. The green filling the portal seemed to swirl and move with his thoughts and emotions. He wanted it. “I will select the green portal.” He walked back to his soldiers and fell in line.
Tirell stood in place, letting his eyes drift between the three remaining choices. “Very well, brother. Somehow I thought green would be your choice; so typical. I will take the yellow one,” arrogance lilting in his voice.
Each brother led their teams to their selected portals. When they stood in front of their selections, the other two portals winked out of existence. Each brother gave one last look at the other. Raythum appeared apprehensive and Tirell looked overconfident. They nodded their heads toward one another and led their groups through.
Raythum felt the tingling sensation and let it overwhelm his body as he pushed ever further through the portal. He forced himself through as he became aware of chaos reigning on the other side.
He found himself in Havenbrook. The was sun obscured by thick, acrid, gray smoke appearing to originate from all throughout the city. Canon fire erupted all around him and screams permeated the air. All thoughts of the test disappeared from his mind and he issued orders to the soldiers under his command.
He glanced throughout the city to see where his assistance would be the most beneficial. He noticed the southern outer-wall had been breached and enemy soldiers stormed through. We have to shore up the southern wall. If we are overwhelmed, the city will soon fall, he thought as his mind reeled with different strategies.
He drew his sword and motioned for his comrades to fall in behind him. They caught the attention of several of the enemy soldiers who closed in on their position. In mid-stride, he thrust his sword forward, piercing the black, leather jerkin of an enemy who screamed. He spotted another soldier running toward him. He pulled the sword free and spun around, beheading the second when he fell within his range. He finished his spin and returned to his original course. The enemy flooded through the breach, as he had anticipated.
He spotted several of the Havenbrook soldiers retreating from their current position. He rallied the fleeing soldiers and urged them to join their charge. Some fled with fear, but many turned and joined the advance.
Corpses lay everywhere and they trampled the bodies to reach the fighting at the wall. Bones crunched underneath their feet as they advanced, and blood splattered their faces. Raythum brushed the sweat and blood covered strands of hair out of his face and focused on a group of soldiers to the left of the breach. He bellowed a roar and raised his sword high above his head as he joined the fray. He heard his soldiers uttering their own battle cries. It invigorated the group and soon the Havenbrook troops gained the advantage, driving the enemy forces back.
Raythum severed the limb of a foe, which erupted in a fountain of blood and the air thickened with the screams of the soldier as he fell to the ground, grasping the stump where a limb previously resided. Raythum looked over his shoulder. There were no more enemies within range…yet. He saw the advance, but had a moment to glance farther north to see the destruction in every part of the city. It pained him to see the devastation, but he only had a split second to mourn the destruction.
He cursed and spun around to prepare himself for the next wave of attackers. Three bore down on his position. He grinned, relishing the challenge of facing so many all at once. He parried the first swing of a sword, countered with a strike of his own, piercing the rib cage. His sword squealed as metal rubbed against bone. He pulled the sword free and turned to face the other two. They came at him together and split their advance. He countered one strike, but took another on his left arm; splitting the flesh open and filling it with thick, red blood. He held back a scream of pain.
He turned and swung, slicing through the calf of one of the attackers. He focused on the remaining foe. An explosion rocked the ground to the west of them, providing enough of a distraction to catch the enemy off guard. Raythum seized the opportunity and struck, thrusting his sword through the chest of the remaining soldier. He gathered his breath and gazed at the horizon, pulling his sword free and wiping it clean of blood.
The flood of soldiers had receded. He looked to the north where the battle still raged. He called over to his team and told them to follow him north. He caught the attention of an officer and issued orders to hold the breach, before continuing north.
Raythum wished they had horses to make the journey quicker. As it stood, they were forced to run and they would pay the price when they reached the battle. Several enemy soldiers noticed their approach and turned to face them head-on.
As he raced to face his opponent, he spotted his father in the middle of the battle surrounded by several soldiers, but holding his own. I’ll be there in a moment, father. Just hold tight. He only had a few moments and looked to fight his way through the new group of foes.
Swords collided, and the sound of metal crashing against metal filled the air as if in an eruption. Raythum struggled to fight off the attacks of his enemy. Boulders from catapults crashed down all around them sending splinters and shards of stone in every direction. He could feel the shards ripping apart his skin in little chunks, but stayed focused on the fight at hand. The wound in his arm had started to throb, making his attacks a lot less successful. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another group of soldiers approaching his father. I have to get over there and lend him my assistance! his thoughts screamed.
He spun and lifted his shield, blocking the downward swing of a sword. He timed it well enough, as the sword glanced off his shield, as he lunged forward with his own sword and stabbed it through the enemy. His hand warmed as blood flowed into his palm.
He turned to his allies, ordering them to convene on his father’s position. They fought their way to the main battle. The ground ran with a river of blood, each step brought more of the fluid to the surface making for a slippery run across.
Enemy soldiers, who swarmed to their location to thwart their advance, quickly identified them. Raythum fended off an attack when an arrow whistled through the air and plunged deep into his thigh. He winced from the pain once again, but knew he had to fight on. A soldier ran toward him with his rotted, yellow teeth showing through a gnarled black beard, an axe in each hand, both raised above his head. The arrow provided enough of a distraction to catch Raythum off-guard and unprepared for the blow. He raised his shield to block one of the axes, but had to
spin to avoid the other, causing a sharp pain to run up his leg and into his abdomen. He swore and howled in pain.
He turned and watched as a sword beheaded his foe. He looked at the arrow protruding through his leg and winced as he broke off the shaft leaving the arrowhead in his flesh. The pain overwhelmed him, but adrenaline took over and he focused on the battle. He just hoped the metal in his leg wouldn’t cause any further damage before he could have it removed. He returned his attention to his father, urgency filling him as he ignored his aching leg and hurried over to help him.
The afternoon wore on and the pile of dead bodies continued to mount. Raythum had finally joined his father and the Havenbrook force did their best to drive the enemy back. So far, their tactics seemed to be working; the enemy moved back outside the outer-walls, but they weren’t relenting. Every time Raythum thought they had gained the upper hand, more soldiers seemed to appear, out of nowhere, to take their place. It agitated his nerves.
The sun started to disappear over the horizon and the twin moons appeared as faint silhouettes in the west. He couldn’t believe how the afternoon had seemed to slip away from them. Havenbrook’s forces were dealing with the few remaining enemies.
Raythum turned to his father. “Who attacked us?”
His father looked at him wide-eyed. “What do you mean? It was Shakiel.”
“Shakiel!” Raythum itched his forehead. “We’ve been at peace for years. Why would they attack us now?”
His father looked dumbfounded. “Where have you been? We planned our entire defensive strategy last night.”
Now Raythum looked confused. “We did? I don’t seem to remember that.”
“Are you feeling okay? Maybe you should see the medic.” His father looked concerned at his son’s sudden loss of memory.
“No I’m fine.” He remembered the arrowhead through his leg. “I should have my leg looked at, though. Before I go, why would Shakiel want to attack us? You never answered my question.”
Lokan walked closer to his son. “They brought this war as retaliation, son. Retaliation for our…”
Two arrows flew at them. One missed the target and flew wide. The other went through Lokan’s neck, rupturing an artery and sending blood pouring down his chest. His eyes went wide and he dropped to his knees, clutching the wound. He tried to speak and everything came out garbled.
Raythum fell at his father’s side. Tears welled up in his eyes as pure panic raced through his veins. He blinked and wiped them away to examine the damage to his father’s neck. It looked bad. Blood poured out of the wound—so much blood—and it sounded as if his father couldn’t breathe. He feared the arrow had pierced the trachea. He couldn’t stop the flow of tears; they cascaded down his face like water in a river. He felt all hope was lost. He couldn’t do anything to save Lokan now. He tried to comfort him in his few remaining moments. He couldn’t lose his father and was unprepared to deal with the pain.
His father’s breathing became ragged and he struggled to draw in air. When his chest stopped moving, Raythum took one last look at his father’s face, and his now lifeless eyes before he reached up and closed them one last time. He laid his father’s body down on the ground and glared in the direction the arrows had come from. He burned with rage and wanted revenge, but he found himself too late. He saw the archers responsible for killing his father lying dead on the ground. During his grief, others must have seen to killing his father’s assassins, leaving nothing left for him to do.
His eyes burned from the tears he spilled over his father, and his body burned with fury and grief, but his father deserved better. He bent down and picked up the body. He carried it to the infirmary where one of his father’s top generals confronted him.
“I’m saddened to hear of your father’s demise, my lord. He was a good man. One of the kindest rulers we have known in Havenbrook.”
Raythum had to choke back the tears. He tried to speak, but a large lump had formed in his throat making it difficult to speak. He nodded in acknowledgment, and turned his head.
“I can understand your grief and I’m sure you have other things on your mind, but we need to meet with the council and determine how to respond to the attack.” He turned to leave the room when another thought crept into his mind. “We should also discuss how we are going to handle your ascension. We will have to make an announcement.”
Raythum cleared his throat. “Who is to say I will reign in my father’s place?”
The general looked confused. “As rightful heir to the Havenbrook throne I assumed it had already been determined. Do you not want it?”
“Rightful heir, what about my brother? Wouldn’t the throne fall to him? He is the eldest son after all.”
The general came closer. “Are you feeling okay? I can call for a medic.”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I feel fine, but I think we should figure this out. Where is Tirell? I couldn’t find him during the battle. I mean, I didn’t see him.”
“Raythum…I mean, my lord, Tirell died before you were born,” He whispered. “He came down with a case of pneumonia and never recovered. The throne is yours...there is no one else.” The general put his arms on Raythum’s.
“He died? But that can’t be…I mean I have memories…memories of us growing up together.” The general cut him off.
“You have been through a lot today. So I believe your confusion to be a side-effect of today’s events. I suggest you get your leg looked at. I will get the council to convene in your father’s…I mean your audience chambers.” He looked disgruntled by Raythum’s confusion.
Raythum couldn’t believe what the general said. He seemed to be in a rush, though, so he saw the doctor who extracted the arrowhead and bandaged the wound. He went to his quarters to wash up and put on clean clothes. Dried blood covered every inch of his revealed flesh. Even though he needed to get to the audience chamber, he wanted to be clean and presentable.
With new clothes adorning his body, he walked up and prepared for his first audience with the council. He found it hard to concentrate; grief riddled his body and his nerves were on edge. He walked in and greeted the advisors who offered congratulatory remarks.
Raythum stood and addressed them. “Thank you for the kind words and condolences. Today has been one hell of a day. I know many of you are aware, but my father died at the conclusion of the battle. We need to determine how we are going to respond to Shakiel for today’s injustices. I’m new to this position, and as such, I’m open to any suggestions as to how we should proceed.” He seemed disoriented and worried about retaliation. He still couldn’t come to terms with his father’s death and it all made his head swim.
An older gentleman spoke first. Raythum recognized him, but didn’t know his name. He wore thick glasses with scratched lenses, framed by his thinning, long, white, curly hair. “I think we need to go after them. A swift response will prove we aren’t weak and would set an appropriate example for others who might wish to follow in their footsteps.”
Another old man jumped up. He had a bald head with a wispy mustache and a well wrinkled and age-spotted face. He had a long pipe stuck in his mouth, which would explain the leathery complexion of his skin. “Ludicrous! Our forces were weakened in today’s battle. If we run out and chase them down, we risk thinning our already depleted ranks and we might welcome a similar attack from other nations. I don’t think it would be wise.”
“Pah! And if we sit back and do nothing, we risk appearing weak, inviting another attack. A strong show of force is necessary to stave off any further unwarranted attacks.”
The council continued to argue with one another, ignoring Raythum’s presence in the chamber. He tuned them out and let them argue, savoring the time he had to think for the first time that afternoon.
He let the events of the battle run through his mind. He had been so naïve. You never let your guard down when the enemy stands near. Even when victory seems at hand and the enemy soldiers are in retreat. He wanted t
o chase them down and make them pay…make them all pay for what they had done to his father. I don’t have any other choice. This is what needs to be done.
He stopped and started to listen to the argument for a time. He could see the points from both sides. At this rate, they were going to spend the rest of the evening debating how they should proceed. He ruled the kingdom now, and he needed to follow his heart. He listened for another moment before he demanded to speak.
He stood and rapped his knuckles on the table. “Let’s be civil here. I have listened to all of your suggestions, and while they are all good, I believe there is one clear direction we should follow.” Everyone in the chamber quieted to hear what the new king had to say. “At this time, I think we should do nothing. We need to send an emissary to Shakiel and suggest a meeting to see if we can hash out our differences, but I feel as though counter-attacking now would leave Havenbrook protected too thinly and we risk a further depletion of our military resources.”
His comments started another round of arguing. He didn’t understand how his father could handle all of the bickering. He needed to establish his rule now. “Enough! We can waste our time arguing about this all night. But in the end I’m going to proceed as I have already indicated. Keep bantering if you wish, but if you don’t mind, I lost my father today and I need to start making arrangements.” The council stood and bowed, accepting his words as he strode from the room.
The walls shimmered and everything went white. The four members of his team stood in the emptiness with him, and a green portal stood across the room. Suddenly his mind cleared and he remembered his objective. He couldn’t believe how real it had all felt. He thought he had lost his father and a new sense of relief flooded through him.
He smiled at his comrades. “Well done, gentleman. I think it went well.” The fact that they all had survived the battle unscathed surprised him, but he felt relieved it had gone so well. He looked from his team to the portal. “Shall we get out of here?” He walked over and readied himself for the awkward sensation of traveling in this manner.
The Rising Past: Book 2 in The Keepers of the Orbs Series Page 10
