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

by J. G. Gatewood

  One of the council members, Rickhard, replied. “Why can’t we? I don’t see why it’s our responsibility to come to their aid. If they stole something of value, even if it occurred generations ago, then I feel they should atone for it. This doesn’t concern Havenbrook, wouldn’t you agree?” He furrowed his bushy, brown eyebrows, and glared at the Elves over his spectacles.

  Arthanis began to speak, but Raythum interjected. “What a simple way to think, Rickhard. This isn’t the same Nithor that once existed. The world is shrinking, and now more than ever, we need to be there for our neighbors, as we would expect them to be there for us. When someone else is in trouble, we’re all in trouble.”

  Raythum had everyone’s attention now and stood to address the chamber. “I know many of you would agree with Rickhard’s gruff assessment of the situation, but I would beg to disagree. By your logic…” he pointed toward Rickhard, “should we not also be responsible for the past transgressions of Humans, such as the acts committed by Luther and Martul?”

  Another council member chimed in. “That’s not the same thing and cannot be used as a comparison. We are talking about a race that stole something of great import from another. Should there not be retribution?”

  “I’m not going to stand up here and defend the Dwarves, claiming they don’t have a responsibility for what may have happened in the past, but if they require our assistance I’d be willing to lend a hand.” He turned to Rickhard. “Tell me,” he spun around and made eye contact with each member of the Havenbrook council, “have you never taken an apple as a child from old man Farley’s orchard? Or smashed a pumpkin while playing out near the Marshall farm? Or how about pulling ears of corn from the Trindell fields?”

  He waited for a response from any of the members. When none came, he continued. “I know as children many of us were guilty of these crimes. Did any of you make amends, or offer to atone for those mistakes?” No response. “Would you now? I know the scale and complexity of the crimes are different—one is petty theft, while the other involves a large hoard of gold—but the point remains the same. If one of you were in need, I’d come to your aid as a friend, or neighbor, regardless of what may have happened in the past. We can’t sit back and watch a neighbor fall victim to an enemy.”

  Morlidon beamed as he watched the young heir give his speech to persuade them to join the cause. He felt pride listening to the wise words flowing off his tongue. “Thank you, Raythum.”

  Raythum sat back down. “My pleasure, my friend. How can Havenbrook help?”

  Irrian, known for his tactical thinking, offered his analysis. “As I said, the troops don’t wear much armor, and their weapons are rudimentary. But what they lack in advanced weaponry, they make up for in size. What I mean is a couple of things. Firstly, their height. These are not short tribesman. They are a couple of hands taller than even the Elves, on average. Secondly, their muscular builds. They appear larger than Humans, and resemble a Minotaur in bulk and muscle. Lastly is their sheer numbers. There has to be more than sixty or seventy-thousand troops all marching toward Drognard. This is not an attack force, but instead I would classify it as an invasion. They’d overwhelm the Dwarves, even in the refuge of their underground cities.”

  Arthanis interjected. “My mother, the queen, asked us to come here to ask for your assistance. We can use any troops you may offer, as well as any you may raise through your friends in Melina and Shakiel. She has also requested you lead the Dragons into battle,” he finished, looking at Raythum.

  Raythum looked taken aback. He hadn’t expected this. “I’m honored, but wouldn’t one of the Elven riders be better suited to lead? I mean, I only have a couple years of experience.”

  Morlidon grinned. “I’ve spoken with the others. We would be honored to follow you.”

  Raythum looked toward Irrian who had been his biggest adversary while he trained. “And you accept this as well?”

  “I’ll admit, I didn’t like the idea at first, but I warmed up to it. Your tactics are spontaneous and unpredictable. I think this is exactly what we need to beat the overwhelming odds. I’ll follow you into battle.”

  “Seeing as how I have your approval, I will accept the offer. How much time do we have until the enemy arrives at the doorstep of Drognard?”

  “At their current pace, we estimate two weeks,” Arthanis said.

  “Two weeks? Even if we assembled the troops and left within the hour, there is no way we could march to Drognard in two weeks,” Lokan said.

  “Wait father, we could load the troops into our river transports and follow the Talmac river east. We could be well beyond Melina within two days, and at the western entrance within the week,” Raythum said.

  “That’s what we’re hoping for, but the sooner the better. It’d be next to impossible to wage a battle of this scale and magnitude within the mountains of Drognard. The plan is to bring the battle to them. We’ll march east and meet them on the plains of Braknell between Drognard and Ferrindale.” Arthanis pointed to several maps laid out on the table.

  King Lokan looked perplexed. “I agree we should offer our assistance, but why did you come in place of the Dwarves? I would feel better about the situation if the request came from members of their high council.”

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, Dwarves don’t believe in riding horses. Considering the time crunch we’re under, we decided to fly here to get you the message right away. Please know we have the full support of the high council,” Arthanis said.

  Raythum nodded his head. “Of course. I think it was a wise course of action.” He stood up, “I’d like to send my recruits with you, if you wouldn’t mind. You can continue to train them. Although they are not seasoned, I think they have received enough training to be adequate riders in the upcoming battle, especially with additional training from you. Besides, it isn’t as though we can expect to face any Dragons in battle, so I think they’ll be safe.”

  Raythum turned to his father. “Assuming you are in agreement with everything we have discussed, I ask you to assemble the troops and get them on the boats.”

  “Sure son. But what are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Milenthia and I will fly to Shakiel and Milena to persuade them to join the battle. We’ll need all of the troops we can get.”

  “Very well. I’ll see to it.” Lokan turned to Arthanis. “When you return to Drognard, let the council know they have the full support of Havenbrook.” He turned and addressed Norlun for the first time. “I suggest you assemble the conclave and inform them they’ll be heading out on the boats with the troops. Their skills could prove to be quite useful.” Finally, he addressed the remainder of the council. “You all know what to do. Time is short. I suggest you get a move on it.”

  Raythum walked over to Irrian and Morlidon. He began a private conversation with them as Lokan approached and interjected. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Humans, Elves and Dwarves would come together under one banner. I have to admit, it’s quite refreshing, even with this monumental task in front of us. Do you have time to join us for lunch?”

  Morlidon offered a warm smile. “It would be our honor. In our haste to get here, we didn’t stop for breakfast this morning and would welcome a warm meal.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t accompany you. I think I should find Milenthia and we should be on our way to Shakiel,” Raythum said.

  Morlidon reached out to shake Raythum’s hand. “Thank you, my friend. We’ll see you in Drognard in a couple of days then.”

  Raythum departed the chamber in search of Milenthia. They were on their way to Shakiel before lunchtime.

  Visit to Shakiel

  One perk of being a Dragon rider was that Raythum could travel almost anywhere on the continent of Askabar quickly. He spent the time on her back pleased by the warm fresh air as it blew through his hair, and contemplated his tactical approach. He needed to ensure both cities offered their assistance.

  He decided to give his brain a rest as they
were within an hour of Shakiel. He let his mind wander and watched the changing landscape fly by beneath them. They flew at a comfortable height so they wouldn’t arouse any suspicion from the ground. They would appear to be a large bird floating through the air, assuming one looked upon them with a naked eye. Anyone with a scope would identify Milenthia as a Dragon. This presented a small issue, as they would be spotted as they neared the city. With no time to offer a warning, they had to take the risk.

  Time passed as the sun headed ever closer to the eastern horizon. The accumulating sweat began to dry as the heat from the sun diminished. He had started to feel quite comfortable when he spotted the outlines of the city before them. At this distance, they would appear to be nothing more than shadows, but the shadows would soon transform into solid figures as they drew closer. How would Shakiel take their first Dragon siting in generations?

  Shakiel sat on a piece of land about twice the size of Havenbrook. The buildings were more uniform. Unlike his own hometown—which had grown over time and illustrated the different time-periods in the unique building styles—Shakiel had been built primarily with stone and timber for the walls, and thick thatch for roofing. It gave the entire city a very ancient look.

  They circled Shakiel in a manner similar to when they arrived in Havenbrook to let the guards on the ground know they weren’t enemies. A large gathering of people assembled, and gave Milenthia a wide berth as she landed.

  Several guards approached as Raythum dismounted her back. He bowed his head and greeted them. “Hello. I’m Raythum Stormdragon, the heir of Havenbrook. I’m requesting an audience with your liege on a matter that is of the utmost importance.”

  One of the guards walked forward. He stared at Raythum and furrowed his brow. He had brown hair with thick streaks of gray. He had a red bulbous nose and flabby jowls hidden behind a thick mustache curving around his wide mouth. Several creases adorned his hard face and provided Raythum with a clue as to his age. Raythum put him in his late forties, a life-long soldier with a rank befitting his time served.

  “So the rumors are true then? You’re a Dragon rider?” He seemed to almost smirk.

  “Yes. Not by design, it just happened one day. I was in the right place at the right time. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

  The soldier continued his hardened stare. “Yes, of course. I’m Captain Troman. King Hearm has a pretty busy schedule today.”

  Raythum frowned. “Let him know I require a conversation with him and it concerns the safety of all of Askabar. It is imperative I speak with him immediately.”

  Captain Troman studied him for a moment. “Very well, I will see what I can do.” He turned and walked toward the main building of the palace. “Follow me, please.”

  Raythum let the captain lead the way. The decorations inside the palace were lavish; colorful tapestries hung on the walls and stretched from the ceiling to floor. Several small tables adorned the wall displaying artifacts. The items stretched the ages. He could tell some were ancient—the metal was aged and worn—while others appeared to be new.

  The captain motioned for him to sit on a bench before he excused himself to search for the king. Raythum obliged and made himself comfortable while he waited. As the time ticked away, he started to grow irritated. He’d come here on urgent business expecting to have a council with the king, but instead had been kept waiting for well over an hour. He tried not to let his frustration show on his face. He didn’t want to risk the mission…they needed the aid.

  Another hour had passed when the captain returned and asked Raythum to follow him. After a long walk down a dimly lit hallway, they neared the end and came to a set of double doors. The captain swung them open and Raythum walked into the room, trying his best to hide his agitation.

  King Hearm sat behind a large wooden desk; a younger man, in his early thirties. He had short brown hair sitting atop his round and pudgy face. He looked up when Raythum walked in and smiled. “The renowned Raythum Stormdragon. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stood to greet him. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I was in the middle of a meeting with my advisors when you arrived.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, King Hearm.” Raythum dropped to a knee and bowed his head out of respect, before accepting a seat.

  “What brings you all the way to Shakiel?” he asked.

  “We received word this morning of an impending attack on the Dwarves of Drognard. Arthanis, a son of Pirphul, Queen of the Ferrindale Elves, delivered the message with a trusted group of Dragon riders. The same Dragon riders who trained me after I bonded Milenthia.”

  The king seemed disinterested. He picked up a piece of paper and read it, ignoring Raythum. After several long moments, he peered up. “And what help do you need from me?” Arrogance dripped from his lips.

  It already hadn’t gone well, which left Raythum to wonder if he’d made a wise decision coming here. “I came to ask you to spare troops to aid us in the war. A war which could ravage the entire continent if left alone.”

  Raythum couldn’t tell, but he thought he saw the king roll his eyes. “I think what you speak of is a little on the dramatic side. I doubt any force could march through and attack the entire continent. Who is this menace?” He flicked his bejeweled hand.

  “The Elves believe the force to be the Kahloom, in search of revenge for Bahlam’s gold. I’m sure you’ve heard the history.”

  “Yes I’ve heard!” he snapped. “The Dwarves have committed many transgressions throughout their long history, and I believe it’s high time they paid for them,” he snarled.

  “Do you not understand what this could mean for us all?” Raythum pleaded. “They have between sixty and seventy-thousand troops all marching west. What makes you think they’ll stop after they conquer Drognard?” He could tell this last comment had resonated with the king. “They won’t, which means we’re all at risk. We need to stop them now, and your assistance would make everything that much easier. I don’t see how you have any choice.”

  King Hearm’s face turned a light shade of red, indicating his rising level of anger. He stood and leaned forward, propping his hands on the wooden desk. “Is that a threat?”

  “It isn’t a threat. I should’ve chosen better words. What I mean is your inaction could have repercussions, which would affect us all. We need your help and would be glad for any you could offer.” Raythum did his best to use placating terms and adopted a softer tone.

  “You come here uninvited on the back of your Dragon, scaring the fine citizens of Shakiel, and demand I offer you support to defeat a force who I happen to agree with, and you expect me to offer support just like that?” The king snapped his fingers. “I have to say, you are bolder than I thought.”

  “I haven’t demanded anything and you know it,” Raythum said. “We were once allies, and all I’m asking is for your help. If you don’t wish to offer it, just say so. But I will remember this day. When you need help in the future, your decision will weigh on whether or not I will offer my own assistance.” Raythum let the words hang in the air before he continued. “And that is a threat.”

  The king turned and walked to the large windows filling the back wall of the chamber. “You don’t leave me much choice then, do you?”

  “Look, I came here in a peaceful manner to ask for your aid. Nobody will make you do anything against your will.”

  Still looking out the window, the king said, “You drive a hard bargain, Raythum.” He turned with a large smile on his face. “Of course I will help you. My father was a good friend of the late clan chief Hirig. I would hate for anything to happen to the Dwarves, even if I think they committed acts in the past which I disagree with.”

  Raythum looked confused and relieved at the same time, and felt as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He thanked the king. He didn’t know what had changed the king’s mind, but it benefited the cause so he thought it all to the good.

  “How much time do we have?�
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  “The Elves think they will arrive at the gates of Drognard within two weeks, so we will need to move quickly,” Raythum replied.

  King Hearm rubbed his forehead while he ran the calculations through his head. “It isn’t a lot of time. I will have to use the To’Kasl river to transport troops, and even then we’ll be cutting it close.” He refocused his attention on Raythum. “I assume we’ll sacrifice the safety of the Dwarven walls, and instead take the battle to them? A battle of the magnitude I’m expecting would be difficult to wage inside the mountain.”

  Raythum nodded his head. “The Elves suggested the same thing. We’ll meet them on the Braknell plains, situated between Drognard and Ferrindale, which is about a one-day march.”

  “Interesting choice.” The king stood and walked toward Raythum. “I’ll offer several of my legions, including the elite Shakielian Swords of the Night. I will lead them at your side.” The king stared into Raythum’s eyes.

  They both were stepping onto new ground. While they hadn’t been at war for a generation, neither side trusted the other and seemed to always be anticipating the other to make an antagonistic move. After today, they would each know the other’s tactics and strategies should they ever wage war in the future. The hope being that after today a new alliance could be ushered in where all parties could move into the future under a new banner of peace.

  “I thank you for your offer, and I’d be honored to stand beside you on the field of battle,” Raythum said. He sealed the trust vow by gripping the young king’s hand in the familiar grasp.

  “Believe me when I say, the honor is all mine.” The king paused. “Sorry to make you stir at my tone. I decided I was going to help you but I wanted to make you sweat a little.” He chuckled as Raythum hid his frustrated feelings. He thought the whole conversation could’ve been handled better by the young king.