Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1)

by Roberto Vecchi

  He was tired. Bone weary tired. Mind weary tired. The calming of his mind was a task he had mastered ages ago, at least until his encounter with the power behind The Book of All. Ever since that moment, there has been a noticeable battle being fought within him between his years of dependency upon knowledge and his new found acknowledgement of something greater. He could not see, nor touch, nor hear, nor smell, nor taste this new found desire to follow the leading within him, but he was quickly learning that even though it remained unrevealed to the senses, it was no less real than that which was. In fact, he could make a substantial argument that it was greater in its scope of reality because even though there was nothing tangible to know, it was still able to provide enough force upon his conscious mind to change it when set against the fullness of his life's experience and training. Such was the power presented to him that a single moment, a single encounter, had altered his course.

  Just then, he felt a slight tug on his fishing pole. He looked up, revitalized at the prospect of the catch and saw before he felt, the slack in his line tighten. Although the slack was now gone, he did not feel the tension transfer to his hands indicating he should respond in kind. He waited. Tension, slack, and then tension again. He waited, noticing his breath was increasing and his hands instinctively tightened on the fishing rod. But this fish was patient as well. Tension and slack in repeating patterns, but none with enough force to warrant a reciprocated pull. If he should pull too much too soon, he would risk loosening the hook and losing his catch. So he waited, patiently, with the dual determination of a hot meal and victory over his catch.

  Stillness. The air grew quiet. The sounds of the night critters chirping around him settled to an earie silence. The tension upon the line was still intact, but there was no movement under the water. Utterly still, there were no ripples upon the water's surface indicating life below its dark surface. And then he felt it upon his conscious mind. Intellect, or at least, an intellect exceeding that of a fish probed into his awareness. What indeed had he caught? He investigated this intellect further and felt an intentional patience. But not a passive patience one would experience when waiting without expectation. This patience mimicked his. This was the patience of a predator.

  With this realization, the fishing pole he was loosely gripping was torn from his hands before he could react. Erupting in front of him was a huge jet of water that struck him squarely in the chest sending him tumbling backward several feet. Dazed, it took him a few moments to regain his bearings. But as he did, he saw, emerging from the dark waters, a large and misshapen head nearly twice the size of Ethdios. But one does not become Grand Wizard of the Council of Knowledge by not being able to handle a semi-conscious beast, regardless of its size. Intellos gathered a portion of his aspect and surrounded himself with a windshield designed to divert another blast of water. And just as he did, the beast attempted to complete its attack by unleashing another blast of liquid. But this time, it was dissolved against the whirling winds of his shield.

  Gathering more of the reservoir of his talent, he reached out to the fire he had burning in preparation to cook his catch and imbued it with power. As it grew, it also lept to his command and lashed out in a fierce blast aimed directly at the beast's head. As it hit, the Wizard used his talent and knowledge of fire to increase the internal heat of the natural flame; but its effect was un-expectantly less than what he had originally anticipated. The beast did not relent the ground it had gained. Lancing through the flames were two smaller tendrils of water with greater velocity than the first. Though they too were dissolved by the wizard's wind shield, they did pass farther into his defenses.

  Intellos was now annoyed. Annoyed because he was tired and hungry; annoyed because this beast, clearly with magical properties of its own to have resisted the fire that would have incinerated a fully mortal opponent, was preventing him from resting, eating, and focusing upon the task his mind and will were set upon. As the beast lunged closer to the wizard, it revealed its body to be short and disproportionately smaller than its head. On its side were a series of three gill like structures, presumably used for the purpose of underwater breathing as well as the intake of water it was converting into a weapon. Intellos reached into the earth beneath the beast and used it to trap its legs holding it in place. Limiting its movement was enough to drive it into an animalistic rage. But, because it was no longer immersed within the water, its gills could gather no liquid for its attack. Or so was the expectation of the wizard. However, he was jolted to humility when the gathered blast of liquid pierced his windshield and sent him tumbling again. Had it not been for the reformed earth around the beast's multiple legs, it would have had the opportunity to be upon him, but it was held fast.

  Chastising himself as he would an initiate within the University, he stood up and gathered himself once again. Very fatigued and very agitated, he was nevertheless, able to call upon his power; and as quick and fierce as lightning, it responded. The Grand Wizard had had enough. Forming his power and infusing it into the earth around the beast, it erupted beneath it as four large spikes. In a moment, the beast changed from a rage fed monster, to the still remains of a dead one. Walking over to the carcass, Intellos examined it. He had never seen anything of its type before, nor possessed any knowledge of anything dangerous, and certainly nothing possessing magical properties, within the waters of the Amuri Lake. These were indeed strange times. And this beast stood as greater evidence that something was moving in the background.

  While he was kneeling at the side of the dead monster, he looked up toward the mountain and noticed that the moon had risen to where it appeared as if it was perfectly balanced upon its summit. The tip of the scribe's pen! He instinctively looked down toward the water and saw the light from the moon was at just the right angle to traverse the length of the lake creating an appearance of a well-lighted path on the dark surface. He looked up into the clear night sky and saw the stars surrounding the moon. He looked down to the waters again and noticed the stars had no reflection upon the calm waters of the lake. This must be it. The light shining more brilliantly in the dark was not the stars, but the moon. And when it was right at the tip of the mountain, it cast its beams across the surface of the lake! The "eye" to the spirit must be at the end of this illuminated pathway. But what is the veil? Where is the barrier that must be crossed to enter into the holy land? The veil had to be the surface of the water. But that would mean the "eye" was underwater and at the end of the moonlit path across the lake. But the way the lake was situated, its far shore was completely adjacent to the mountain. With no way to get around, and no boat with which to sale across, the wizard was presented with only one solution.

  Calling upon his magic once again, he focused it on several trees standing close to the lake. Trees were not common in the Dwarven lands, and he offered a silent thanksgiving for their presence. Because of the knowledge he possessed about how they grew, he was able to manipulate them quite easily enough; and because of his time spent on several merchant ships protecting them from the Pirate King, Grak da Gule, he had learned a little about how sailing vessels were fashioned. With adequate knowledge of both wood and ship construction, he was able to craft a small and relatively simple boat. Once his magic completed its task, he boarded the vessel and manually launched it from the shore. Once fully afloat, he was able to use his knowledge of currents and undertows to magically create those necessary to see him to the other side. Normally, he would have fashioned an oar to paddle the boat across the lake, but his fatigue and excitement allowed him to fluidly adjust his moral principle without the creation of guilt. As he sailed across the lake, he felt his hunger assert its presence, but greater had become his thirst to further investigate the power behind the Book of All. His mortal hunger could wait. His immortal thirst could not.

  Following the moonlit path, he arrived at his hopeful destination relatively quickly and smoothly. Because of the battle with the unknown beast a short time ago, he was quite watc
hful for any unexplained disturbances to the glass like surface indicating another of its type was lurking below. Upon reaching the other side, and hence, the mountain's wall, he soon realized the error in his plan, or rather, the execution of it. As he contemplated how far beneath the lake's surface the entrance to what he believed would be an underground cavern within the mountain would be, he had the shocking understanding that he did not have a way to secure his current mode of transportation. In short, he forgot about the anchor. And while it may have proven to be a voyage ending detriment to the normal sailor, he was neither a sailor, nor was he normal. So, with only pause enough to allow the water binding spell to take effect, he prepared to enter the murky dark of the moonlit waters and began his dive.

  Having successfully negotiated the physical obstacles to this part of his journey, he was now able to consider two more barriers derived entirely from his mortality: the need for light and the need for air. While his knowledge of light was not as great as Bengrako's, he nevertheless possessed the required amount to manipulate it sufficiently enough to enable his vision to pierce the darkness of the murky deep. But much more difficult was the second and life threatening dilemma; how was he going to sustain airflow with which to breathe?

  He understood that air, and potentially all substances, existed in different phases. He knew that when ice melted it created water, and when water was heated, it created mist; but what he did not know is how to change mist into breathable air. He did know that there must be part of the water that was conducive to breathing because all manners of water dwelling creatures were able to breathe while submerged. And removing them from their liquid surroundings would produce the same result as placing a land dwelling creature in the water, death. This told him that both water and air could be conducive to life. It also told him that all he need do was alter either the nature of water or himself. Though he did possess the raw power to affect the lake in totality, he decided against it. Life was precious and he could not justify ending that which was contained within the water just so he could breathe. As such, he decided to alter himself.

  Since his knowledge of marine life was rather lacking, as was his understanding of mortal bodies, he was unable to perform the full transmutation of his whole body into that of a fish. However, he did understand enough of the two to create a set of water breathing gills. As his transmutation spell took form, he felt the slight discomfort that always accompanies any form of body altering magic. And then he could not breathe. So involved was hi in the mental discernment of his spell that he had neglected to realize he would be unable to breathe once his spell was complete. He took a moment to realign himself with the clues he had been following and quickly dove into the murky deep.

  He briefly looked up to his magically formed water craft and saw the currents of his water binding spell holding it in place. Satisfied it would be there for his return, he turned his attention below. Down he descended into the chilly depths without the knowledge of how far he was to go, or even if he was in the correct location referred to in the passage. However, removing his dependency upon knowledge and allowing himself to feel, he could come up with no logical reason strong enough to dissuade his current endeavor in this current place at this current time.

  Behind him, he felt a presence. Turning just in time to see another of the beasts he battled on the shore launch a lightning quick tentacle toward him, he was able to instinctively form the water surrounding him into a condensed, but still fluid, barrier. When it struck, the tentacle bounced off. Another tentacle was on its way before Intellos was able to react and provide and offensive counter. But just as the first, this one careened off the condensed liquid shield. Several more were already in route, but their only effect was to prevent the wizard from countering. To his memory, this was the first time he was engaged in combat fully submerged. And he noticed it presented him with a few obstacles. Firstly, the viscous nature of water prevented his normally fluid and quick hand movements required to direct several of the battle spells he would normally have prepared. Secondly, he was unable to utilize the full power of his mastery over sound while beneath the surface. And lastly, his current body structure was ill adept at negotiating movement of any kind while confined by the water.

  Seeing the monster pause from its tentacle driven attacks, Intellos sensed he had tired the beast enough to gain a momentary reprieve allowing him to generate his own martial pressure. But such was not the case. A secondary effect of the dark vision spell was that he could see small ripples in light with greater acuity; and it was particularly useful now. What he thought had been a short resting period for the beast was, in reality, the short time it needed to let loose its water attack. He quickly reshaped his water shield into a wedge extending from his body designed to cut through the oncoming jet of water. As the beast's attack was cut by the wizards water wedge, he extended it outward by drawing in more of water around him. The water jumped to his command and pierced the beast's oversized head. As it sank into the silent depths of the Amuri, fading from his sight, he could not help but appreciate this form of encounter because it challenged his mental quickness and fluidity of thought. Through the years, seemingly endless at that, he had fought many large scale and individual battles where he was able to call upon the more normal types of magic; however, in these unique surroundings, when many other energy driven spells would have no effect, he welcomed a challenge, even if only to his own creativity.

  Taking a moment to probe into the surrounding waters in search of any other life that may be bent upon making him its next meal, he formed the necessary components of sound and gently let the spell envelop the entirely of the lake. Feeling nothing threatening, he returned to his primary objective. As he slowly searched the side of the mountain underneath the water, he located a rather small hole about fifty feet below. Squeezing through the opening had proven more difficult than he had originally thought when comparing his size to that of the opening. Cursing himself for not keeping up with the rigid physical exercise he had been taught while a student in the university he now lead, he made a mental note to reinstitute its prevalence in his daily routine. But as it was, he was able to fit through and follow a short upward shaft until he broke the surface allowing him to inhale refreshing air once again.

  But the air here, within the mountain, when it should have been dank and musty, was ever more so than that. Over the course of his long years, he had found himself inside many crypts and deep mountains. Without a natural ventilation system, the air progressed in staleness the farther one traveled into the depths. Even the great underground cities of the Dwarves which were said to possess a ventilation system more intricate than a spider's web, still carried a trace amount of mustiness. Yet, from the first moment the refreshing air penetrated his lungs, he smelled and felt none of the dank heaviness he was expecting. His lungs filled with life as did his soul, if such a thing existed.

  Though his magic allowed the vigor of his youth to remain well beyond when it should have dwindled to momentary episodes brought about only by the strongest emotions, breathing deeply seemed to restore even the small amount he had lost throughout the years. It was all he could do not to become completely lost within the invigorating sweetness of his inhalations. He allowed himself one final deep breath before he turned his attention to finding the destination of his quest and hopefully the Great Dragon Lacorion. As he inhaled, his eyes remained closed and he felt hope, belief, and confidence influx his spirit.

  Timed with his exhalation, he simultaneously heard and felt a great, wind-driven whooshing that sucked the very breath from him. As if the winds were turned into the tides of the greatest ocean, he then felt another whooshing, but this time instead of drawing him toward it, it pushed him backward as if he was standing in the middle of a great typhoon. He gained his bearings and, not knowing what he faced, he formed the air around him into a solidified shield, employing the same technique he did under the water. It was now, after he was able to focus upon his surroundin
gs instead of the surprising conditions of the internal air supply underneath the mountain that he was aware of the sheer vastness of the cavern in which he was standing. Oddly enough, while there was no visible source of light, the cavern was illuminated as if it were situated outside and exposed to both the heat and light of the sun. While searching for the source of the whooshing he felt a moment ago, he noticed the side opposite him was easily father than several hundred yards. Looking up, the ceiling was at least equally great in distance, but he could not be sure because he could not detect its definitive end. The walls were formed from some sort of rock, but had a very eerie resemblance to the same rock used to form the walls of the room housing The Book of All. They were the color of a dark red mixed with a rusted orange marbled texture, but lacked the random variations in uniformity found in the natural occurrences of the physical world. These walls were much too equally distributed in color proportions to be formed entirely by chance.

  Power, raw yet refined and intentionally focused, was beginning to envelop him from all directions simultaneously. Undoubtedly shielded from its effects by his spell, the growing power was reaching a point to where the wizard would have to divert his full attention to the continued sustenance of his magic shield. On the verge of cracking, it began to tremble causing him to respond in kind. Diverting the full measure of his magical talent honed and grown over the ages of his existence, he was certain it would now be sufficient to sustain any amount of magical pressure. Having solidified his own safety, he attempted to draw upon the power around him by creating a link to attach to the power's point of origin. But when he found none, he became worried. All of his studies, as well as his predecessor's, and no doubt his successor's, had and would continue to reveal that no matter how the magic was manifested or whom or what it was manifested through, there had to be a specific point of genesis from which it was focused. This was not just supposition, this was a magical truth. If there was no beginning point, if there was nothing from which it could be formed from, then there was nothing that it could be formed to. For something cannot come from nothing.