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

by J. G. Gatewood

  Once they were revealed, it became obvious they were maps. Norlun pointed to the valley displayed in the center of one. “This is where we will face Martul. Alassa and I will march with the troops at first light. As you all know, we have hidden the orbs in pairs throughout all the land of Askabar. Because we know any more than two orbs in close proximity will wreak havoc on the elements, I’m suggesting each of you obtain one. With the assistance of the two orbs here in Havenbrook, we can open portals you can travel through. Stay at your destinations and when you are required, we will summon you. We can then merge our powers and use the orbs to destroy Martul.” He grinned, satisfied he had laid out a fine plan.

  Norroar said, “Stay at our destinations? How long will we be waiting?”

  “By my estimation, Martul and his troops will arrive in the valley within four to five days, which should provide us with two days to prepare.”

  The elder Elf at the table, Rolois, spoke. “Why are we leaving tonight then? It seems we have time we could put to better use preparing for battle.”

  Norlun nodded his head in agreement. “I see your point, and normally I would agree with you, but Alassa and I will be leaving tomorrow morning. We will be taking the orbs with us and the rest of you will have no way of creating a portal without them. It would take days or weeks for you to arrive at the various locations. This is why you must leave tonight.” He looked around the room. “Are there any questions?”

  The scene appeared solemn as each member of the conclave thought about what they were putting at stake. Many of them thought they would never see Havenbrook again, and took a moment to take in the surroundings.

  “Very well then, if there are no questions, we will convene and meet back here one hour before daylight.” He watched them leave the chamber before he retreated back to his own quarters to prepare himself for what lay ahead.

  The twin moons neared the horizon to the east as the sun crested in the west. It took a lot of work, but the assembled troops awaited orders in the courtyard. Not the largest of armies, numbering in the thousands, but Norlun knew the well formulated plans—plus the addition of the orbs—would tip the scales in their favor.

  He looked around at the assembled soldiers as King Wilros walked out of the palace. He walked with an air of confidence befitting his outward appearance. He had very broad shoulders and stood much taller than an average man. His squared-off jaw sat below his large deep green eyes, framed by large, blond, bushy eyebrows that looked like caterpillars crawling across his face. His long, blond hair fell below his shoulders after having escaped the top of his head, leaving a large, sun-burned, bald spot.

  Norlun had awakened him several hours before and had gone over the plans for battle. Fortunately, Wilros had been very involved throughout the entire planning process; Norlun had just needed to provide him with the last minute details.

  He wanted to ensure there would be no delays and filling the king in now would hopefully speed up the process. Norlun remained adamant about arriving early because he intended to build ramparts at the mouth of the valley to provide further fortifications, and bolster their defensive position. This would be key while waiting for the others to arrive with the orbs.

  They pushed a hard pace marching far longer than they had anticipated, but their hard work and quick pace paid off. They arrived at the valley before the sun set on the second evening. Norlun suspected they still had a lot of preparation work to complete before Martul arrived, but didn’t want to push the soldiers too hard. After their camp had been setup, he left them to their own devices for the evening. He brought the king into his large tent and completed the plans for their defenses. Well after midnight they wrapped everything up. He climbed into his bedroll and tried to get some sleep, but his mind raced and he found drifting off to be difficult.

  His restlessness persisted through the morning hours, made even more difficult when it started to rain a few hours before daybreak. He couldn’t stand the constant patter of raindrops on the canvas of his tent. After a while, it became his own form of torture and worsened when the winds picked up. His tent rocked and swayed until the sun came up. Annoyed, he washed himself using a pitcher of ice-cold water. The sudden drop in body temperature brought on by the icy water, helped to reinvigorate him. Although he hadn’t slept, his mind felt clear and ready to go about the day’s preparations.

  He stepped out of the tent as the cold wind attacked his skin. He looked to his left and spotted the cooks busy preparing breakfast at several campfires. He needed help staying awake, and hoped one of the chefs had already started preparing tamaca. As he approached the fire, he noticed the distinctive smell. Tamaca was a drink made from a bean, similar to coffee, but packed with even more caffeine and a pungent and bitter taste. Norlun knew if he expected to survive the day, he needed it.

  He grabbed a mug of the steaming hot drink and took a long draw, relishing the burn as the liquid slid down his throat. A cook offered him a plate of warmed bread and strips of rabbit. He accepted the plate and stuffed his mouth.

  He spotted a general speaking to Wilros and walked over to join them. They had put the troops right to work and began building several fortifications, ramparts, and walls to slow Martul’s advance, while providing them an extra line of defense, and hopefully an advantage.

  It was hard physical labor and several of the soldiers appeared dissatisfied to be doing all of the grunt work. Norlun heard the complaint and glared in the direction of the upset soldier, who noticed the look and went back to work. He realized the soldier said the truth, though, and decided to lend a hand. Using his spark, he manipulated the stone, taking hundreds of pounds of weight out of the equation; making it much easier for the soldiers to move. He could have all of the wizards use their own abilities to move the stones, but this would’ve expended too much of their energy and would be counter-productive to their efforts. His manipulation trick, on the other hand, required far less energy and would increase the speed at which the soldiers could work. Several other wizards spotted his efforts and joined in.

  Progress continued for the next three days. A large stone wall now stretched across the entrance to the valley situated between two jagged, snow-covered mountains. It wasn’t anything as formidable as a castle wall, but it would provide the extra time they would need. A line of catapults and trebuchets sat behind the wall, gauging the distances for the battle.

  Upon the urging of Norlun, King Wilros gave most of the soldiers the afternoon to themselves for relaxation. Most of them thought they might not survive and enjoyed the remaining free time given. Of course, several of the scouts still had their responsibilities. So far, there had been no sign of the enemy, which grated on Norlun’s nerves. It provided too much down time to rethink their strategies, and he just wanted the battle to start so he would stop overthinking it.

  Satisfied with their progress, Norlun took the opportunity to contact the rest of the conclave. He wanted them to be up to date and ready to move at a moment’s notice. He knew communication would be key and strived to keep everyone informed.

  After delivering his second message, a bugle roared to life outside of his tent. With all haste, Norlun left and approached the wall. Wilros already stood atop the battlement scouting the valley beyond with several of the commanding officers. Norlun crept closer to join them.

  King Wilros acknowledged him even as he continued speaking. The king understood that Norlun and the other wizards were the integral cog in the attack; Wilros’ soldiers would serve as a distraction and he wanted to ensure as few were sacrificed as possible. The size of the force they would face had him nervous, but he trusted Norlun’s judgment. “Our scouts indicate there are over ten-thousand troops marching in our direction. They won’t make it here by nightfall so we have the evening to make our final preparations, but we can expect a battle at first light tomorrow.”

  Norlun took the king’s pause to offer his opinion. “This is as I expected. I will get a message to the others and let them know wh
en to appear in the morning. I suggest you inform your troops.” He looked over the wall and eyed the soldiers who awaited word and knew they needed an update. “I think they grow impatient.”

  Norlun retreated to his tent to deliver the message to the other wizards, before eating his dinner and trying to get some sleep. With his restlessness from the previous nights, he felt exhausted. He went to bed early and soothed his aching muscles. Sleep didn’t come quickly or easily, though.

  He awoke long before the sun came up. Today would prove to be a difficult day, and the worst part was, he didn’t know what to expect. He walked out where the cold morning air greeted him. The wind seemed stronger than he expected, which he knew would make the ranged attacks all the more difficult if it didn’t let up. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body and walked to the temporary wall. Seeing what they had been able to create in just three days brought an expression of pride to his face.

  He thought about the irony of how much effort they had put into building the wall, only to have it knocked down in the battle, but they needed the distraction anyway. This type of defense would be what Martul would expect, and Norlun intended to keep up the charade as long as possible. If all went according to plan, Martul would become overconfident and when the wall fell—which it would because he had already devised several weak points during construction—they would draw Martul into the opening. Norlun’s plan and the fate of Havenbrook—all of Askabar, to be honest— rested on Martul doing as Norlun anticipated. That would be when the true plan would spring into action. Norlun only hoped he understood enough about Martul to be accurate.

  He climbed to the top of the wall. Although the sun had yet to rise, several torches burned and provided ample light for him to see where he walked—a good thing, considering he had to step over several soldiers who were fast asleep when they were supposed to be keeping watch. He breathed in the crisp morning air and gazed over the valley. He could see a soft orange glow emanating from just over the horizon, but he couldn’t see any movement. He pulled out his spyglass to get a better view.

  He saw many of the troops already up and about making their final preparations for the day’s fight. He lowered the spyglass and sighed. He suspected there would be many deaths today. He didn’t like it, but there was no other way. Their plan with the orbs would result in far fewer deaths than would occur if Martul were allowed to conquer the lands, and he held on to that hope to make himself feel better about the impending battle.

  He walked back down and headed for the center of camp where a ring of campfires already raged. He took a moment to warm himself by the fire and accepted a serving of warm bread. When his body temperature had returned to normal, he walked back to his tent and issued last-minute commands to the others. He let them know a more precise time when they should plan on opening portals to join the battle. It took time to send the messages, as he had to do it three different times, and upon his completion he could already feel the warmth offered by the sun, which had now made its appearance.

  He gathered everything he would need for the day, including the orb, and left his tent at the same time as a horn blared out in the distance. The time had come. They would see if their plan would work….

  Encounter with Martul

  Norlun walked out to the center of the camp. Soldiers already amassed behind the new wall, and the catapults moved into place. He spotted the king and several of his commanders supervising the last-minute preparations. He had already discussed everything he needed to with Wilros, and decided it would be best if he just let him focus. Norlun instead decided to seek out Turl. He needed to give Turl the orb for safekeeping during the early stages of the battle.

  When he couldn’t find his trusted apprentice, he stalked through the camp in search of him. His frustration began to show on his face, as his search didn’t yield the result he hoped for. As a last resort, he walked to his apprentice’s tent. He didn’t expect to find the young man there, and was shocked to see him still getting dressed. Norlun felt and looked appalled. Everyone else in the camp had been doing their part for several hours now, and to find his apprentice still readying himself for the day left him stupefied.

  “Turl, what are you doing? Surely you should be assisting the others in preparation for today’s battle. Why are you just now getting dressed?” he asked the now red-faced and embarrassed apprentice, not even trying to hide his displeasure.

  Turl tried to pull his pants up while his master awaited his response. “Yes. I’m sorry, sir. I awoke well before the sun had yet risen. I went to your tent to find it already empty. I assisted several of the cooks in the preparation of breakfast, before I helped organize and position the catapults. After, I grabbed a small portion of food and ate.” Norlun felt embarrassed as the true situation dawned on him. “I went to the river to wash up before joining you on the field to see if you required anything of me, but I slipped on a wet stone and fell in. Given how cold it is this morning I decided to come back to my tent and change. I felt I would be useless in my wet state. I apologize if this has been an inconvenience for you,” he finished with downcast eyes.

  Norlun walked over to his apprentice with a large smile on his face. “There is no need to apologize. It is my misunderstanding. Are you ready? Your role today is a crucial one.”

  “Yes, I’m ready for whatever you require.” Turl bowed his head.

  “You are to stay out of any fighting today.” Turl looked up at Norlun, shocked and puzzled by what he heard. He tried to speak but the old man cut him off. “Initially that is…so you can wipe the disappointed look off your face. You will see plenty of action today, but not until the others arrive. When this happens, it will be your cue and you can join the battle. I expect utter chaos to erupt, but we will deal with it at tha…” His voice trailed off as the ground shook. Not just once but several times.

  Norlun stormed out of the tent, almost ripping the flaps during his hasty exit. He looked to the north and spotted several large stones in mid-air, flying toward the wall. So it has begun, he thought to himself. He turned his head toward the tent. “The battle has begun. Do you understand your orders?”

  Turl shook his head in response. “Yes, of course, master.”

  Satisfied with Turl’s complete comprehension, he turned north and ran toward the battle. He noticed the Havenbrook troops had already begun returning fire with their own catapults as arrows filled the sky. He needed to be on the western side of the wall, so he headed there with great haste. He climbed the stairs two at a time, a difficult task given his age. His lungs burned by the time he reached the top. He arrived in time to face a large boulder heading in his direction. He had only a second to use a spell to create a shield in the air. The boulder struck it and rolled to the ground.

  Norlun needed to conserve his energy. It would be crucial to have his full abilities available for the second stage of the battle. He instructed the novices to do most of the dirty work—after all, their abilities were only necessary as a distraction later on. He needed to direct the others during the first phase.

  He issued his orders and commands, directing spells where they were the most necessary. Explosions filled the air as the catapults launched large stones toward the wall where they deflected off the wizards’ shields. Norlun noticed how Martul stayed out of the fight. While he didn’t participate with his own attacks, he stood in the middle of his troops and directed theirs. Norlun scoffed at his enemy’s over-confidence.

  The morning grew long as Martul’s forces made progress against the Havenbrook troops. The wall began to crumble, and soon it would fall beneath their very feet. Norlun thought the time had come to move on to the next phase. He looked toward Wilros giving him a slight nod, signifying his intentions. The king gave his signal to one of his generals and the troops started to retreat. A large clearing sat in the middle of the valley well behind the wall, and the soldiers fell back to this position.

  Norlun fired a green ball of energy up into the bright morning sky. It ex
ploded in a magnificent shower of sparks, signaling Alassa to contact the others. He just hoped she saw the message. He made his way across and down the wall. He followed all of the soldiers and made it to the rally point. Suddenly the sky turned dark and gray. It only took an instant for the wall of thick clouds to block out the sun. A smirk crossed Norlun’s face; the trap had been set.

  The wind picked up and whipped his cloak, wrapping it around his body. He looked over his shoulder and saw Alassa and Turl heading in his direction. He spotted several portals off in the distance and identified several members of the conclave as they joined the battle. As more orbs joined the vicinity, Norlun looked to the sky to see what effect they were having. The wind blew, creating a dust storm on the ground. The clouds turned a dark shade of green, and formed a low-hanging rotating wall. Unbelievably, snow started falling.

  As the other wizards converged on Norlun’s position, a large explosion filled the air. Norlun turned his head toward the wall and watched it crumble as Martul’s forced flooded the wide-open gap rushing toward Havenbrook’s troops. Norlun joined the rest of the conclave and tried to find Martul. He squinted his eyes to see better in the harsh conditions, but the effort proved futile. An ice storm had filled the valley, stinging and cutting the troops’ already wind-ravaged skin. Visibility went from bad to non-existent.

  Norlun pulled Alassa and the others in closer, taking advantage of the poor visibility to communicate their plan one last time. Two lightning bolts crashed to the south causing the ground to tremble. Several troops fell to their knees from the shake.

  Mysteriously, as quick as the ice storm moved in, it left and a downpour of rain replaced it. So much moisture fell in such a short period of time that pools and miniature lakes soon filled the battlefield.

  During the transition from ice storm to rain, the visibility improved and Norlun saw the hulking mass of Martul as he entered the fray. Not to say Martul was a large man, but he stood taller than the average Human, with very broad shoulders. He wore a smug grin and showed his arrogance with each step he took.