The Unknown Man: Book 1 in The Keepers of the Orbs Series (32 page)

Tirene took a couple of steps forward toward the old man. “Norlun?” He watched as the old man's eyes bulged large, hearing his own name. “I’ve been trying to reach you for almost two months now. I set out with Liniana, the daughter-heir of Havenbrook on a quest for your assistance.” He paused while he bowed. “I’m humbled to be in your presence and wish for a little of your time to help me with my own dilemma.” He rose back from his bow and waited to see how Norlun would react.

The old wizard wore a very confused look upon his face. “But my visions? My orb! You took it into your possession and used it.” He walked away from the wall, seeming to be a little more relaxed and in control of himself. He walked toward Tirene, shaking his hands at him. “The orb isn’t safe, not in your presence. I’ve seen it! That is why I fled to this cottage.” He put his finger in Tirene's chest. He poked him, which urged Tirene to take a few steps back, although he felt no discomfort as he wore his breastplate. “You cannot be trusted!” He spotted Matt in the room for the first time. “And you, even against all of my warnings and urgings, you allowed the orb to fall into this man's hands. I watched as you offered it up with little resistance.” Anger filled the wizard's face. “You don’t deserve to continue your life and deserve a punishment worthy of your treachery.” He spoke through clenched and grinding teeth.

Norlun brought his staff up before him where it glowed with a blue hue and energy channeled into it. “I knew you were a pitiful excuse for a Human, but I gave you and your companions this important task. You have failed me and should suffer the consequences.” Matt's eyes grew large as he realized he would be attacked. He held onto the hope the old man wouldn’t go through with it. He could’ve pulled out his daggers to strike the old man down, but that would go against everything they hoped to accomplish with this visit. He stood back, ready to give his life for this quest, but Tirene stepped between them.

He put his hand on Norlun's chest. “I’m afraid I cannot let you do that.” The old man's beady eyes turned to focus on Tirene. He stared at the young man, gazing over his own long, bony, and hooked nose. “This man is a member of my company and if anyone deserves your wrath,” He stared at the old man. “Then I guess your judgment should come upon me.” Tirene stood back and awaited whatever might come. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, the glow around the staff diminishing.

Folois and Arthanis stepped up to intervene as well. Folois spoke in his defense. “We’ve accompanied Tirene on his journey to prove to you that you should put trust into this man and listen to what he has to say. We were sent by Queen Pirphul, my mother, to prove to you what this man says should be taken as the truth, and you should think long and hard about listening to his tale.” His face showed the seriousness his voice offered. “I know you’re capable of visions and have a clear understanding of what is going on to the north. The queen feels the only choice we all have at stopping this madness, lies with the man who stands before you.” They all watched as Norlun took a couple of steps backward, his eyes large with confusion and dismay.

He looked long and hard at Tirene. “This man is our hope? I haven’t seen these visions. I don’t understand. He’s gathering orbs?”

Tirene dropped to his knee to offer more homage to the old wizard. “I think once you hear my story you will see I’m in great need of your assistance.” He let his head drift down in a formal bow and left it there, awaiting Norlun's response.

The wizard took a few more steps back, his legs connecting with a high-backed wooden chair sitting next to a window, between two sets of shelves holding potions. He sat down in the chair and brought his left hand to his chin. He took a long hard look at the party. Two Elves, a Dwarf, the daughter-heir of Havenbrook, this appeared to be a very interesting group to say the least.
If all of these different people of different races are willing to come this far with him, maybe I should hear him out,
he thought. He brought his chin up from his hand and spoke. “Very well, I will hear your story. Rise and speak.”

Once on his feet Tirene said, “Thank you, Norlun.” He proceeded with his tale. He made sure he left out no details and looked surprised at how much the old wizard revealed with his face. He even pulled out the medallion, as did Liniana that marked them as keepers.

Tirene finished his story and awaited a response from Norlun. The old man just sat there, though. He ran through all of the information revealed to him. He looked for any information to scrutinize, but couldn’t come up with anything of importance. He sat in his chair, like a stoic statue, his chin resting on his left hand. Signs of frustration shone on Tirene’s face from the lack of response.

They all waited for too long. Jaeden jumped, startled when Norlun laughed. It sounded thick and reedy; the entire room felt unsettled. Jaeden almost reached for his sword, but remembered why they were here.

Norlun burst to his feet, the staff falling to the dirt floor of the cottage. His laughter continued when he tried to speak, which appeared difficult because of all of his laughter. “All of this,” he waved his arms around the room, “could’ve been avoided. I feared for the world when I saw the orb in your possession. I packed up and headed here.”

He walked to a cabinet on the far wall in the room. It remained locked, and Norlun reached below his robes to remove a key. He pulled back the doors and Tirene noticed two other orbs had been locked inside. “Judging by your present company, and the fact you’re keepers yourselves, I feel it’s safe to reveal these. I picked them up from Drognard and Ferrindale. When I knew you were following me and I thought you were trying to gather them, I talked the Dwarves and Elves into handing them over.” He picked the two orbs up, one in each hand, and brought them to a large table sitting in the room. “No one knows they are in my possession. You see, it’s my life's work to ensure the orbs stay contained and safe. For if all seven are gathered, Martul will be released from his prison.”

Seriousness crept on the old man’s face. “I was one of eight wizards from the original order who placed Martul in his prison. He set on controlling the world and his threat grew so large the order deemed it wise to send him away. He could harness more of his spark than any of us, so we knew it would take drastic measures to lock him away. The seven other wizards gave their lives to hold the prison. The essence of my companions resides in each of these orbs.”

He stared at the orbs on the table for a long period of time. “I remained alive and will stay as such to ensure the prison isn’t destroyed.” He turned his attention from the orbs and focused on Tirene. “I created the keepers of the orbs to assist me in my lifelong endeavor to ensure they remain safe, and to ensure Nithor remains safe from Martul.”

Tirene looked astonished. “I had no idea what the orbs contained.” He looked toward Norlun with renewed respect. “It would appear you gave the ultimate sacrifice to save all of humanity.” He spread his arms to encompass everyone standing in the room, “to save all the life on this planet. It seems we owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Norlun strode toward Tirene. He had a new air of confidence flowing all around him. “You have no idea.” He continued to stride forward. “Now to see what I can do to help you with your memories.” He stopped at one of the sets of shelves. He pulled a bottle containing a pink fluid. He looked at it for a long moment before walking over and handing it to Tirene. “Drink this. It will take a moment to take effect. Once it does, I can delve into your unconscious, and will remove the block preventing you from accessing your memories.

Thankful, Tirene brought the small glass bottle to his lips. He let the fluid fill his mouth and swallowed the awful concoction. It tasted horrible, like roots that had been cooked too long. He gulped it down and as it passed through his esophagus, he noticed the taste change to very sour, and the aroma filling his throat reminded him of nothing but trash. When it reached his stomach, it didn’t mix well, and it took all of the strength he could muster to keep it down. He almost retched, but Norlun ordered him to keep the solution down.

Sitting in his stomach, his insides burned. His head began to swirl and he began to feel lightheaded. Through his swirling vision he could see Norlun walking toward him. Tirene swayed, wishing he had a chair to sit down upon, but nothing seemed close. The others stood back and gave the wizard plenty of room.

“Now to see what is going on.” He placed both of his hands on either side of Tirene's head. When both hands were in place he stood back, filled with an electrical charge.

Norlun's eyes had a shocked look upon his face. “Your name is Raythum Stormdragon.” The others watched as Norlun's face quickly adjusted from shock to amazement. Upon hearing his full name, visions started to flood Tirene's head. “You’re from one hundred and thirty-seven years in... the future.” Norlun pulled his hands back. His face looked white, pale white, as he took a couple of steps back. “I’ve removed the block.” Norlun lowered his head deep in thought. He caught all of them staring at him. He raised his head. “It won’t be painless, Raythum. It appears I sent you back in time to stop your brother.”

Tirene fought while he sifted through all of the memories flooding his head. “I remember. I tried to stop Tirell. He forced me away and used the orb we controlled in Havenbrook. It allowed him to travel back in time.”

“I’m afraid your brother goes by a different name now. When Martul took over his training, he renamed him Lutheras.” Fear crept across all of their faces.

Raythum gritted his teeth. “Lutheras!” He turned to face the others, with a solemn look. “I remember now.” He spotted Liniana's face. Disgust filled his head. How had he let his feelings take control of him? He shouldn’t be in a relationship with her, he didn’t belong here. He came here to stop his brother, and nothing else mattered. He would then be forced to take the orb back to the correct time period. There were now two identical orbs in this time-line, which could cause a disturbance. With all of the courage he could muster he gave them more information. “My name is Raythum Stormdragon. I’m heir to Havenbrook, Commander of the Dragon Legions, and have been entrusted with the control of all of the keepers.”

Pain filled his head; blinding pain like swords stabbing the inside of his brain. It felt as if daggers were being drilled into each of his eye sockets. Visions and memories flooded into his head. He fell to his knees, uttering screams that reverberated around the room. He succumbed to the pain and passed out, crumpling over onto the hard floor.

Liniana rushed to his side. Norlun rested one of his hands on Liniana’s shoulder. “I’m afraid there is nothing you can do for him. It will be best if we let him stay unconscious. When he awakens, he should have all of his memories back.” Norlun pulled Liniana back to her feet. She had a sick look upon her face. “He had a purpose and that is to see Lutheras is stopped.” He walked back to the high- backed chair and sat down upon it. “I’m afraid all we can do is wait.” He brought his hands together and steepled his fingers, resting his pointer fingers on his lips. They all settled in to await his awakening. “This isn’t what I expected when you showed up on my doorstep.” He pondered for a moment. “Not what I expected at all.”

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J.G. Gatewood lives in Parker, CO with his wife, Sarah, and two sons, Branden and Evan. When not writing, he works as a Subject Matter Expert. He enjoys sports and reading in his free time. For more information, please visit
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Excerpt from The Rising Past: Book 1 in The Keepers of the Orbs Series

The year of Raythum’s sixteenth birthday had been full of surprises. He had grown over the past couple of years, looking older than his age would let on. His features had become less childlike as he approached his adult years. He had lost his baby fat, transforming his face into a hard, chiseled one with a strong jaw. This matched his physical appearance which had become sleek and muscular, and he stood taller than most too.

He grew quite handsome and had the eye of every young lady in the city. Of course the woman for him wouldn’t be of his own choosing, but of his parent’s as a way to shore up a relationship, or increase Havenbrook’s holding of land. He understood his place and his role and had accepted it at a young age. Not to say he walked around with blinders on, though. Several young ladies had his eye as well.

Raythum strode down the street with his good friend Malk. He and Malk had grown up together and now trained together too. The son of a wealthy noble—his father owned the largest and most prolific shipping company in Havenbrook, employing hundreds of ships—he acted spoiled and entitled, but was a good friend to Raythum nonetheless. Their paths were similar and as such, they conducted their education and training in unison.

They had a rare afternoon free and took the opportunity to relax and swim in the river outside of town. They headed back to the inner ring in the evening. After crossing a street, a young lady rounded the corner of a building and ran right into Raythum. Because of his size advantage over her, he knocked her to the ground.

Obviously upset and unaware it could be her fault, she yelled. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you big galoot. I am in a hurry and could’ve been injured.” She pulled herself off the ground, before looking up to see whom she had run into. Halfway to standing she recognized him and froze.

Raythum rushed over and grabbed her arm to help her to her feet. She stared into his blue eyes, embarrassed by what she had said. She stood frozen, unable to say anything.

He gave her a kind smile. “I am sorry, my lady. You are right; we should watch where we’re going. Are you hurt?”

She blinked, breaking her awkward frozen stare. She had heard of the prince’s kindness, but she never expected him to be this kind. “I, I, apologize, my lord. I should’ve been paying more attention to where I was going. And please excuse my curt mouth. I didn’t realize who I was yelling at.” She bowed her head.

“There is no need for that.” He grasped her arm to get her attention. “I am not the king, nor do I expect to be. You don’t need to bow down. I think it was a combination of both of us not paying attention. Kindly accept my apology as well.” He put his hand on his heart to reflect his sincerity. He stared at her blue eyes, reminding him of a clear summer sky. Her thick, dark hair fell to her shoulders. He felt drawn to her.

She brushed a few rogue strands of hair from her eyes and offered him a smile. Butterflies fluttered in Raythum’s stomach. The beauty and intensity of her eyes stopped his heart.

“Thank you, my lord. I will be on my way then.” She turned to walk away.

Raythum rushed after her. “Wait, my lady, wait.” She stopped and turned around. “I never caught your name.”

She blushed. “That is because I never offered it to you.” The corners of her lips curled up into a smirk. “My name is Serena, my lord. Now if you please, I must be on my way.” She turned to hurry off again, but not before offering him a brief smile...

Raythum turned to Malk who looked bored and eager to be on his way. “Have you seen her before?”

“Her? I have seen her once or twice.” He shrugged. “But you cannot be interested in her, Rayth. She is the daughter of a blacksmith; nothing but a peasant.” He started to walk away in the direction of the inner ring.

Raythum caught up with him. “I have to see her again. Do you know which shop?”

Malk rolled his eyes. “Her father runs the Firehammer shop down near the merchant ring, but honestly Rayth, you shouldn’t bother chasing after a blacksmith’s daughter. No good can come from it.”

Raythum gave Malk a friendly punch on the arm. “I can’t help it. She is beautiful.”

Malk shook his head and they continued walking down the street. Raythum could tell he upset Malk with his decision, but let it pass.

For the next two days, Raythum couldn’t get Serena out of his mind. He tried to come up with a way to visit her in an inconspicuous manner, when the way presented itself during his drills. Although he used a practice sword, several of the links in his chainmail broke and were in need of repair. The opportunity he had been looking for had arrived.

He waited several more days before he finally had a free moment to head to the merchant ring. Malk wanted to use the free time to head to the river, but Raythum informed him he would be busy.

He thought about calling for his horse to ride down there, but given the warmth of the afternoon, he decided to walk, especially since there was no rush anyway.

It always amazed him how much the city changed depending on which ring you were in. Considering they added different rings over time, each had a unique type of architecture. The buildings in the inner rings were regal with a lot of stone work and columns throughout. As you progressed toward the outer rings, stone gave way to wood, stucco, and thatch. The merchant rings contained structures only built out of wood.

He rounded a dirty corner and spotted the smithy’s shop, the Firehammer, across the street. He made his way over, and ducked inside.

A blast of heat that felt like the seventh level of hell hit him in the face. The stench of burning charcoal provided an acrid odor mixed with the stench of sulfur and overpowered his nose. An older, burly man pounded away on a red, glowing strip of metal, while a younger man stoked the fire.

Raythum cleared his throat to try and get their attention.

The young man turned to see who interrupted them, and the smithy said in his deep, husky voice. “I’m all booked up today. You can try and come back tomorrow.” The young man’s eyes opened wide recognizing the prince at once. “I might squeeze you in…” The young man shoved his elbow into the smithy’s side.

He grabbed the strip of metal with his tongs and plunged the metal into a wooden barrel of water, before turning to the young man. “What the devil was that for? You know not to interrupt me when I am working.”

The young man rolled his eyes and pointed at Raythum.

The smithy had a thick, red, curly beard. Black smears covered his face, and he dripped with sweat—understandable considering the heat in the forge. He squinted through the smoke and dimness to see who stood in his doorway. Upon recognizing Raythum, he wiped his black, callused hands on his apron and made his way over to the prince. “I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t know who you were. We don’t get many royals in this shop. Are you lost?”

“No, sir,” he chuckled. “I am here to employ your services.”

The smithy furrowed his brow. “What about the royal smith? I know him well and his skills are superior to my own. What could I offer that he cannot? Usually when one of your kind comes to the outer rings to do business, it is for some sort of illicit activity. I have to tell you, my lord I won’t participate in anything illegal,” he said, feeling anxious.

Raythum looked shocked by how straightforward the smith came off. “I assure you I am here to inquire your services for a legal matter.” He put the chainmail on the table and found the damaged links. “You see, these links broke during my training today. I would normally use the palace smithy, but he is busy and won’t get to this for a couple of days. I need it repaired before then. He lauded your work and recommended I come to you.”

Clearly relieved, the smithy fingered the broken links, inspecting the damage. In a gruff voice he said, “I don’t like doing things on short notice. However, because of who you are I think I can get it fixed today. Give me a few hours and I should have it mended for you.”

He turned and carried the mail over to his anvil. He grabbed pliers and began removing the broken links.

Raythum cleared his throat again. “Excuse me. Is your residence nearby?”

Irritated, the smithy turned around. “As a matter of fact, yes, I live next door.”

Raythum’s eyes lit up. “Might I trouble you for a glass of water? With all of the heat, I’m thirsty.”

The smithy turned and barked orders to his son. “Henry, take the prince to the kitchen and give him some water,” he ordered, although he appeared annoyed.

Excitement filled Raythum’s face. He didn’t know if the smithy would allow him into his home. Assuming Serena was there, he hoped his plan would go accordingly.

Henry led him outside, around the corner of the shop, and into their meager home. They entered through the kitchen and Henry grabbed a silver pitcher. He poured water into a pewter cup and handed it to Raythum. “If there is nothing else, my lord, I need to get back to my father.” Just then a wide-eyed Serena walked into the kitchen carrying a black cauldron in both of her hands. “My sister, Serena, will help you with anything else you may need.”

“Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your hospitality.” Raythum said as Henry rolled his eyes. He seemed put-off by the chore of escorting the prince.

Serena waited for her brother to leave before approaching Raythum. “What are you doing here? Are you dumb?” She walked over to lead him out of her house, worried someone would see them.

Raythum smirked. “I had to see you again.

Serena frowned before speaking. “Why? Nothing can come from it, so what is the point?” He could tell he piqued her interest, but she seemed hesitant to learn more.

“I don’t care if anything comes from it, Serena. I just want to get to know you.”

“You’re wasting our time. I think it would be best if you left.” She made her way to the door and opened it. She frowned and her frustration level rose when it appeared he wouldn’t follow her.

“I hired your father to repair my chainmail.” He grinned. “So, it would appear I have a few hours to waste, my lady.”