Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1)

by Roberto Vecchi

  Increasing in aggression toward Eriboth, the King continued his examination of him, "Then you are caught in a lie! And a lie to the King! The sentence for that alone is death. But, my dear brother," again he spat those words, "your secret of your greater offence has been revealed by the very one who sought your affections!"

  "I am sorry my King, but with all the honesty in the stars, I do not know to which you are referencing. I have said nothing but the truth to you this day as every day behind and every day forthcoming."

  It was Soliana again who spoke up as Eriboth finished his statement, "Enough of this! Your King has commanded an answer and you shall give it or be taken under the charge of the Red Guard where you will await death by the Executioner's Blade! Now show some respect and answer your King!"

  The blow of the threat of death struck him forcefully in his chest the way a thunderclap would if sounding only feet away. He was visibly stricken and unable to breathe, let alone form the coordinated effort to respond with any semblance of coherence. Again she addressed him as if she herself was betrayed, "And still nothing! The King knows, Eriboth! The Queen admitted to the King when he questioned her about his long time suspicions regarding her affections for another. And she told him of your encounter with her last night after you retired to your room!"

  What had happened? The Queen? She admitted an encounter? All of this was spinning much too quickly for him to process into the words he needed that would allow him to sooth the emotions and clarify the accusations. Why had the Queen fabricated such lies? Did he do her an offense and she was exacting her revenge? Was she trying to protect the true object of her affections and the King's wrath? But why name Eriboth?

  It was the King who broke the deafening silence next, "Red Guards, take him!"

  The next several seconds passed without his conscious understanding. He visually saw the ten members of the Red Guard dismount and advance upon him with swords drawn. He had a faint recollection of unsheathing his blade in response. And then he utterly detached and gave himself over to the only concrete aspect of his life remaining, The Way of Expression. From childhood, he had stood upon the construct that he was not just an accepted outsider by his adoptive family, but that he was a true member of that family with all such differences rendered obsolete. However, with that solidity being stripped from him, and needing to cling to any remaining aspect of his life that could not and would not change, he embraced the entirely of his expressive intent as a warrior in that moment. He embraced it, and unleashed destruction upon those seeking to restrain him. His movements were a perfect representation of the battle. He was not battling as an active participant within the fury, he had become the fury. He had become the battle. To those watching, several seconds had passed, but for him, time's passage had become indistinguishable because battle existed outside of time, as did he. When the last of the ten guards met his bloody demise, Eriboth stood, gripping his sword, seeking another to continue the progression of his violent existence.

  Seeing Eriboth's desire reflected in his stance and eyes, the King moved to dismount and accept the unspoken challenge from his subject and younger brother. "My King, do not spend your efforts on this lowly disgrace to Elvenkind. Allow me to cross blades. I have bested him before, and I will do it again."

  "No! This goes beyond the simple dictates of breaking the law. This is between brothers and will be handled between brothers. You are not the only one who is trained in the sword, Lady Soliana. He is mine!"

  "Rend," Eriboth tried to speak, but the King's protest was too forceful to allow him to finish beyond his name.

  "I said that name is dead to you as you are about to be to me! Now prepare!"

  "So be it," Eriboth accepted as the king began to slowly advance.

  The king sought to trap Eriboth in a deceptive first step, followed by an equally deceptive faint in the other direction. But still submerged within The Way of Expression, Eriboth easily deflected his brother's first attempt. Having been trained under the same instructor, they were equally matched with their physical techniques, as they were with their physical attributes. But the King was driven by rage while Eriboth was propelled by a calm detachment from his emotions. The battle was over quickly as Eriboth did not hesitate when the opening to slide his sword between the ribs of his brother presented itself. True to his intent, he struck his heart causing blood to flow freely from the mortal wound. Rendunial slowly slide from his brother's sword and silently slumped to the ground.

  "You are a monster!" Soliana cried out as she witnessed the end of a great legacy. "Why did you have to betray the King? Why did you have to betray me?"

  Letting his blade tip drop to the ground reflecting his slow resignation to the truth of what she said, he raised his head to look upon the starless dawn. Seeking some understanding to the progression of these out of control events, he closed his eyes trying to avoid the tears that were beginning to mount. How, in all the light of creation, had it come to this? He opened his eyes and looked upon the only face he would look to; the only eyes he would seek for answers, any answers that would she light upon the darkening horizon of his hope. But there were none. He saw only pain, rage, and the certainty of both.

  His silence provoked Soliana to repeat her questions with more force, “Why, Eriboth! Why?”

  He answered her with the slow and hushed severity of defeat, "My Lady Soliana, I cannot express my grief at your words; for to issue them is to accept that what we shared on the dance floor was falsified." He took a step to close the gap between them, but halted when her hands fell to her blades. "Very well, but know this: There was no deception or falsification in my connection to you in what I consider as the only fully true moment I have ever experienced in my long life. All my questions of who I could become were answered in the depth of your eyes as you looked right into my soul and saw me, not for me, but for who I could be with you. You knew me more last night, and know more of me now than anyone else has ever cared to know. And it was the first time I have wanted someone to know the complete breath of me. It was the first time I did not feel alone. It was the first time I felt love. How could I ever betray that?"

  She paused as she was trying to reconcile the emotions and truth she felt while in his presence last night, with the actions he displayed this morning. He had desired to be with her the entire night, but as he walked her to her quarters and as they silently paused at her door, sensing his desire, she said, "I cannot. Though I wish to spend the night with you, I cannot right now."

  He told her that he understood and reassured her he was not offended nor displeased, but that his greatest concern was for her. He had kissed her gently on her forehead and turned to walk away. She had wanted to call out to him, but she did not. She watched him as he rounded the corner of the considerably long hallway, but she just could not bring herself to call out to him to return. She had done that before, and he had not. It destroyed her, and she could not, on this night, open herself to the potential pains of the past.

  What would have happened had she allowed him to stay the night with her? He clearly desired it, as did she. Would the horrible events of this morning, the death of the King and his guards, have been prevented if she had simply given in to her desire? She had believed in what she felt with him so much that hearing of his potential betrayal to the King and fornication with the Queen had caused her to abandon any such trust she held for him. And beyond that, the trust was replaced with a deep sense of a personal betrayal.

  However, hearing his words again caused her to pause. Yet he was still Eriboth, the famed warrior poet whose skill in battle was rivaled only by his skill with words. And close behind was his skill at wooing many women to share his bed. Is that all she was too him? Had he said those words repeatedly to women with the only goal of persuading them to believe his selfish advances? Was she being used? There was just too much to reconcile. Therefore, she did the only thing she was able to do and drew upon the only aspect of her character she could
to receive the strength she needed to do what must be done. She drew upon her deep sense of duty. She was the Captain of the Red Guard, leader of the Red Legion with the sworn duty to protect the King and avenge him if her protection fell wanting. She was Soliana.

  With an icy coldness void of any emotion, she spoke, "Your ability to betray in the face of everything you have known is not my concern. You will have to face that in the stars one day. What is my concern is my duty. And right now, I have the duty to arrest you and ensure you are tried for your treasonous acts."

  "I will not be arrested," he slowly answered her implied threat.

  "Then you leave me no choice," she said as she dismounted and drew both of her blades.

  Had had only an instant to become. She was upon him with the speed and determination of a pain fueled vengeance. Violently she attacked and sought to confuse him by spinning between each of her strikes and blocks. It was a truly mesmerizing strategy as it kept his attention focused on her blades and unable to follow her feet to distinguish an opening. They we seemingly coming from multiple directions simultaneously, and had he not been him, the confrontation would surely have ended soon after its beginning.

  And that is all that he was in this moment. Because he faced whom he believed to be the continuation of his existence expressed inside that of this exquisite woman, his employment of The Way of Expression was noticeably delayed compared to his battle with the guards and his now dead brother. But once he was convinced that her fury and determination would be influenced by nothing more than her steadfast adherence to her sense of duty, he sank into the peaceful, trancelike state where the only thing that existed was his will as a perfect reflection of his intent to live, and nothing more.

  Oh she was fierce. As his peace increased and his muscles reflected the ease in tension within him, her fury exponentially elevated as she drew upon her pain and sense of betrayal. A whirlwind of advancing heat, she reminded him of fire; but not a controlled burn, rather a huge inferno set ablaze by the winds of her painful memories now forcefully blowing; a blaze that he had somehow ignited. Even fully submerged in the deep fathoms of his intent, he was being pressed by her relentless pressure. Twisting his wrist slightly at the very last instant of his parry, he was able to open her guard just far enough to allow him to thrust his shoulder into her mid-section and push her backward creating a few needed feet of separation.

  Without hesitation he addressed her, "Who has hurt you? What pain have you kept buried only now to release?"

  "You know nothing of me!" she yelled as she again pressed her duty of arresting him.

  She was becoming unraveled and would soon give him no choice to but strike with lethal intent. And that is a choice he did not want to make. That was a choice he could not make. Again he was given the opportunity to thrust his shoulder into her and create the much needed distance that would hopefully allow him to reach some semblance of the woman he felt yesterday. But as he drew away, she lifted her blade and sliced a thin line of red across his cheek. One did not become a true warrior without sustaining injuries in battle, though for him, they were infrequent. But this one, this small one, stung with a pain he had never felt before. Seeing the red line begin to slowly drip, leaving a red streak traveling down his cheek to his neck, she crossed her blades in front of her chest and smiled. "Perhaps all you needed was a woman to show you your arrogance stands as a flaw and will be your undoing. I will give you the option to come peacefully. But should our blades continue, there will be no quarter offered."

  As a function of existing as the intent expressed within The Way of Expression, he was able to objectively see all things without the subjective effects of mortality's flawed vision. And in this moment, what he saw reflected within her supported her statement of finality. He saw no grace. He saw no mercy. All he saw was a duty driven need to avenge a wrong that had been done to her finally given life and breath after having been covered by years of blood and battle. And now it was consuming her to where all she could see was the wrong he had committed to her. He saw her truth, and unless he could find a way to avoid it, one of them was going to die today. And it would not be him.

  Silently he stood, examining all aspects of her from her blazing blonde hair that reflected the internal heat of the sun itself, to the wonderful red and black armor she wore as a sign of her obedience to House Dordrosis, his house. He saw her dark eyes, alit with fury and life, yet hiding pain and death. He saw her heart and soul, and how they combined to create a desire to believe in everything they had felt during their dance of endless connection. He saw her mind. A mind that was beautiful yet troubled and haunted by the ghosts of her past. He saw the potential she held within her existence and the light that could shine from within her. Yet he also saw a darkness that was warring with the light; a darkness that was winning. All combinations of her persona raptured him within the summation of everything she was; and just as he had seen last night, this morning, on this most horrible morning, he saw her beauty. As a single tear regretfully dripped from his eye, it mixed with the blood that she had spilled. He chuckled at the irony that she had drawn both blood and tears from him, something no other woman was capable of doing. And yet, this woman who spoke directly to all intentions he ever held, stood removed and battered by years gone past. She was beyond his ability to reach, but not his ability to kill.

  "Do you find something humorous in this moment? Your decision has been made, as has mine. Arm yourself, you are judged and found guilty of treason and murder. Your punishment is death. You can accept this as a warrior and disarm yourself, or you can accept it without honor. Either way, you die here."

  He raised his sword and held it perfectly in line with the balanced center of his chest in a salute reserved only for the King and Queen. Slowly he allowed his feet and legs to assume his martial stance. He let his right arm move to hold his sword blade down and extended at an angle and repeated the action of salute he had given her on their meeting three days past. Closing his eyes, he slightly declined his head. When he raised it and opened them, she was again upon him with all the fury she possessed.

  Detached. Fluid. Expressive. He moved within her sphere of influence and dropped into the easy and lithe patterns of his martial discipline. He could sense all things, and no things. He felt the wind and grass under his feet. He felt the energy from the life surrounding him. He felt the sorrow from the death he was responsible for, and the sadness at knowing he would be responsible for it once again. But from somewhere within him, he felt a hope. This hope betrayed the resignation he was forced to accept in response to the solidity of his current opponent. When in battle, he never felt hope. He only felt sadness and finality. But this time, as he should have expected in all things concerning her, there was a difference. Holding on to this hope, it began to show him an altogether different option to end this confrontation. Now following it, he allowed it to lead him to a clearing within his mind that opened to a soft and easy light. He was tentative to step into the clearing for fear of what he would see, because his life had been built upon the structure that battle lead to death, such was the way of the warrior. Yet, still unable to face what he must do, and the internal consequences of killing her, he had to exhaust all possibilities. Though physically he was still engaged in a deadly dance of blades, with his intent, he stepped into this clearing and found light.

  Filling him with hope and faith, he was instantly consumed by its easy and warm presence. What he had thought was the only way, was shown to him as but one way, his way. But this light also imparted that there was yet another. Accepting this newly revealed path out of a need to prevent what he had only moments ago believed was his only option, he allowed it to guide everything about him, including his actions in his current battle. When the moment presented, he avoided one of her spinning slashes and took three large steps away from her. Turning quickly, he raised his sword over his head, and let it drop at his feet. "I will fight you no longer, but neither will I be arrested. Judgme
nt has been passed and I offer nothing except my apology for putting you in a position to execute me. Do what you must."

  Stunned by his submission, she paused before walking over to him. When he was within the reach of her blade, she placed it against his neck with the intent of severing his veins and arteries. "Do you offer any verbal atonement for your transgressions against King and Stars?"

  "There is nothing I can offer except your continued life," he said as he let his sword drop to the ground.

  "Very well. I will be swift."

  As her muscles began to tense only a fraction of a moment before she slit his throat thus carrying out the justice demanded by the stars, he remembered the entirety of the last three days. But then the light took him and all of him by showing him the hope he had never felt before. He had been cut deeply on only one other occasion and had forgotten how easily and painlessly a properly sharpened blade slides through skin, muscle, and even bone. What he had expected to feel as a great and intense pain was replaced by an easy pressure followed by the warmth of his still fresh blood flowing from his severed arteries. He felt himself slump to the ground, first to his knees, and then to his side, ending up on his back. He began to choke as blood bubbled from his full mouth. It was beginning to get difficult to breathe and he was beginning to get cold in his hands and feet. Coughing again, he found her eyes. Seeing her intense satisfaction at the fulfilment of her duty, watching her chest rise and fall as evidence that she would continue to live, and seeing her brilliant blonde hair backlit by the dawning sun blowing slightly by the breeze gave him peace. It did not matter that he did not see any of the affection she held for him last night. All that mattered was that he was shown a different way, and that he followed it. All that mattered was that she lived. As his vision began to fade into the quickly enveloping darkness, there was one image he held onto for as long as he could. The sun. For in its brilliance, he found all that was brilliant within her. From her radiant blonde locks to her burning fire within, he held onto his vision of the sun until his eyes burned. But that too quickly faded. As his vision began to dissolve into the abyss, he found the strength to turn his head back to her. Watching her, in the final moments of his life, he smiled. He smiled and died.