He chucked to himself, looked up toward the stars, paused again for a few collecting heartbeats, and proceeded for a third time. Yet the result was the same. Now frustrated, he stopped completely, stretched his neck, performed a few rudimentary warm-up exercises in an attempt to gain some clarity and began for a fourth time; however, he chose to engage in the sequence before The Continuance, one he had completed with perfection a number of times beyond counting. Three movements in, during one of the simple single leg balancing transitions, he wobbled badly enough that he stumbled and almost found his rear on the ground.
What was wrong with him he wondered silently? Had he finally pushed himself both physically and mentally to the extent that he could not complete The Star Rituals this morning? As he internally evaluated himself, taking a full inventory of his physical and mental condition, being as deliberately slow and thorough as he could, he found no present or past issues contributing to his difficulties this morning. But he did find something beyond a physical and mental explanation. During his self-examination, he came face to face with the nagging thought once again, though it was not a thought. Nor was it a physical desire. It was simply there, unavoidable and undeniable. It was a knowing, and it was as much a part of him as his physicality and mentality. Though he tried to previously ignore it, he could no longer. He had to discover the fullness of this third part of himself; this third circle of his existence. He knew his body, and he knew his mind, and now he needed to know this unnamed aspect of himself. For in that knowing, perhaps he would find peace and finally answer his questions.
He began again the physical sequencing of The Continuance and allowed his mind to dive into its meditative structures concurrent with the physical regiment; however this time, he felt a freedom, a connection that was not set within the limiting structure of the practiced Star Rituals, but was emanating from somewhere within himself. He allowed his focus to follow this connection past body and mind. The more deeply he immersed himself within himself, seeking to follow the tugging and pulling, the further he traveled to the bowels of his own existence. The more deliberately he dove and just followed, the more he felt freedom. But freedom was not the end, nor was it the goal, it was merely the result.
His eyes closed and his body began to flow through The Continuance with a grace, power and beauty he had never before produced; yet even in its beauty, there was something more. To the very trenches at the very floor of his fathoms he delved inside himself. And then, he heard the unmistakable sound of his will speaking from his past, present and future. He heard his intent crying out in silent bidding from a place of knowing. For the first time, he heard himself singularly, without the intercession of doctrines and opinions of those who walked before. He heard the echo of his will, perfectly reflecting his intent and perfectly allowing him to answer. And he answered by letting go.
As he did, his body deviated from the structured movements of the Star Rituals and entered into a reflection of himself. They emerged from the shadowed instructions of Elders who could not be him, into the light that was only him. They began to reflect a martial intent, his intent. He continued to listen to his will. More and more fluidly he performed each unrehearsed pattern as a perfect reflection his third and final circle of his existence. Hands dynamically striking and blocking, grappling and throwing, flowing and expressing entwined with foot and leg patterns impossibly perfect with no previously rehearsed performance. Appearing to battle unseen foes, his body and mind reflected structured patterns of complex techniques perfected over years and years of diligent practice and study under masters, except there was no such study. There was only him; all of him. When he completed a particularly intense flurry of intricately combined combative patterns, when anyone witnessing his movements would see no hope of more, he drew his sword. And the world shuttered.
In a fluid river of absolution, his blade glowed from the connection of his mind, body and will all flowing perfectly to reflect the unique expression of his own personal intent; his own personal identity. Utter detachment from all without and equaled connection to all within fueled his liquid movements now harmoniously linked to everything he was, is, and would be. He was nothing, and yet he was everything. Blurring from a complete divergence from The Continuance and everything he had been taught throughout the years, his blade danced a divine ballet of lethal intent allowing him to understand a singular truth; a truth which had eluded him until now; a truth that spoke to his singularly unique expression. Purpose found its origin in intent, and intent was a reflection of one’s identity when all things were removed. Therefore, purpose was not found in the doing of things, but rather in the becoming of things.
It was his will, his intent and his identity, that provided the link between his body and mind. Yes, one could, over time come to know the perfection of these in their independent operation; but with the connection between them provided by the will, the third and final circle of existence, there was an inherent elevation to their accessible potential. Armed with this new found dynamic, he abandoned the Star Rituals altogether, though had to keep his divergence hidden, for it would not be allowed for the King's son to no longer observe the guidance of The Stars. As all things done within the Elven Culture, it would reflect back upon his father and his decision to raise Eriboth as his own. Knowing one so close to the King had forsaken the most sacred doctrines, the High Council would begin to question his legitimacy to rule. For one’s ability to rule the Elves was not based solely upon the singular qualification of blood, but on the greater evidence of performance. If The King's own house was not in order, then how could his Kingdom be expected to reflect anything but the imperfection within his own dwelling?
Over the years, Eriboth’s practice of The Way of Expression, a term he had begun calling it, had evolved into a greater perspective of life he termed The Convergence. Through The Convergence, though still infantile in its development, he emphasized The Will as the connection between The Body and The Mind. It was The Will that was meant to lead, and The Body and Mind that were meant to follow. "Focus your will to achieve your intent. Let your mind and body do what your will has already done." But today, years removed from his initial discovery of The Will, he felt it disconnect from his body and mind. He felt himself die, and yet, begin to live.
The will existed as a tether adhering his existence to the physical world, but moments before she severed both main thoroughfares responsible for transporting blood from his heart to his brain, he felt an almost imperceptible flutter as it disconnected within. Following this, though he was still consciously aware of his continued life, even if only for a few more moments, and although all of his faculties remained intact, another part of him felt detached from the confines of the physical dictations of life. He hung, in this strange feeling of detachment from himself, yet still rooted within himself, and began to float upward. He had a vague sense of distance, but that too was beginning to fade away. It was impossible for him to accurately estimate his distance above the ground because all physical markers of familiarity with mortality began to fade.
But before they dissolved into something greater, he felt himself turn, or maybe it was his consciousness refocusing upon that which had yet to unfold. He saw her, exquisite in her beauty; accelerated by her heaving chest betraying her fatigue from battle, standing before him with an unmistakable combination of pain, anger, and vengeance all fueled by a great betrayal. He saw her brilliantly held blades, perfectly matched to her formidably sharp intent, resting on either side of his neck, crossed and ready to deliver judgment. He saw himself. The deep set understanding within his eyes spoke of the necessity of that which had to happen. And greater yet, he saw his love for her.
With the quickness of a lightning strike, she uncrossed her blades by sliding them forcefully across both sides of his exposed neck. He saw himself stand for a moment, and then fall to the ground. Slowly his conscious awareness and subsequent connection to his body and the physical bonds of mortality began to fade. When
there was no longer any connection to the form lying lifelessly before him, still floating above the horrible scene, with bodies and blood littering the ground, he saw her head incline toward the sky. Her arms elevated horizontally still gripping tightly to her blood soaked blades. And she yelled. Bellowing from the depths of all her pain, she cried out in this moment, and his will shook. Echoing fiercely, he desired to join her in her barbaric release, not to celebrate her victory, for there was nothing of triumph carried from her lungs, but to show his solidarity to her, even in his death. Beginning to float further upward now, his heart felt hers break. Her bellow silenced and her arms went limp. Though in full battle armor, she was now naked to him. She dropped her head and dropped to her knees. She wept, but her tears did not soak the ground, instead they dropped forcefully upon his soul; a soul that now remembered, a soul that felt a singular name crash upon its will, a soul that knew her as Athlorial.
As he continued to float toward the clouds hanging ominously above him, he began to turn away from her. He struggled against himself in an effort to remain by her side. The desire to hold her while she knelt, to let her know he understood, was beginning to consume him, yet with all the focused power of his will, the only one of the three circles of existence he still possessed, he could not stop his progression. With a last effort of concentrated focus, he remained upon her until the very last moment. And in that last moment, his last vision of her was the great sobbing breaths she was taking and the painful tears she was releasing. In silence, he heard the last remaining aspect of his mortal awareness speak to her in a moment of utter honesty. He was sorry.
Though he could feel no physical signs, for his continued consciousness was removed from all mortal senses, he was still vividly aware of his acceleration toward, as yet, an unnamed destination. As the progression of his speed became more pronounced, he felt himself pass the upper levels of the clouds, though even the words "pass" and "clouds" still had ties to the physical world, but it was all he could use to comprehend his ascension. Even the understanding of time became as remote as the stars, which he was now accelerating toward. As he continued to travel, the stars began to blur around him and combine into a singular soft white light. This light was beginning to dissolve everything within it until, at the moment of his cresendoed speed, it consumed his entire surroundings.
If he still possessed a physical body whose life was sustained by the beating of his heart, in the moment between two beats, the dissolving white light ended and he saw two young boys engaged in combat. As his awareness became more focused, he saw that the two combatants were not battling, but were practicing. There was something familiar surrounding this moment, but the familiarity was illusive. One of the young students, the taller of the two, who appeared older, dispatched the shorter and presumably younger one on several occasions. Yet after each one, the smaller boy rose from the ground and began another attempt at usurping the taller from his victorious reign.
"When are you going to learn Eri? I will always be better than you," said the taller of the two. The words did not incite a verbal reply, but rather aggravated the younger boy who, in return, lashed out with a barrage of frustration induced, sloppy slashes and stabs. The older boy was able to easily parry and dodge the off balance strikes and landed the attacker on his backside with a well-placed leg sweep.
"If this had been a real battle, you would be dead and not just taking a rest on your thurun!" Again the smaller of the boys stood up, brandished his padded wooden sword and attacked, this time with an uncontrolled fury that initially surprised the older of the two causing him to momentarily retreat. But the taller boy regained his stance in a few moments and, reflecting the fury of the younger boy, delivered a timed strike to his combatant's stomach with his unarmed hand. Bending over from the blow, the younger boy lost his breath. In a fluid continuation of the punch, the older boy smashed his padded sword across the side of the younger boy’s face sending him sprawling.
"Maybe that will teach you Eri! Practice and focus all you want, but you will never best me! I am Heir to the Throne of the Elves! The Light of the Stars made mortal! You are just a man!" spat the older boy through gritted teeth.
"Young Prince! That is not the reflection of the grace and eloquence within the stars you praise! Even in victory, we do not demean those who are inferior, regardless of their offence," said a deeper, yet softer voice from behind.
The young Prince looked toward the elder voice, silently bowed his head, and offered an outstretched his hand toward Eri. "I do not need your assistance, Brother," said the fallen child, "I will get up on my own," and he slapped his brother's hand away.
"What is it, Eri?" asked the taller boy.
"Do not worry about it. I am fine," said the younger boy as he attempted to stand, still stunned by the blow to his head. He stumbled trying to rise and fell to his knees again.
The older voice spoke again, "It is no small thing to accept assistance when it is both offered and needed," said the elder voice.
"I do not need it," he said as he regained his footing, albeit on legs that were silently straining to maintain balance.
"Master Venerin, I believe our lessons should be concluded for today. By your leave, I would like to seek Mistress Elonial to continue my education in herbs and potions," spoke the Prince.
"Of course, Prince Rend. I believe you are correct with your assessment. May the stars focus you upon your endeavors," said the elder elf as he bowed his head to the Prince.
"Eri, may the stars focus you upon your endeavors,” said the Prince as he turned and strode toward the castle doors.
After Prince Rend was far enough away to prevent the passage of sound to his ears, Master Venerin walked slowly to stand in front of young Eri. "What do you have against The Prince?"
"Nothing, I just do not like being defeated," said the boy as he dusted himself off and picked up his padded sword.
"You do not react this way when your lessons see you pitted against any of my other students. And I have seen you in the same position you just were on many occasions," said the elder elf as he squatted to speak to the young man at eye level.
"By your leave Master Venerin, I would like to seek Master Dundalas. I believe I may be in need of his healing skills," Eri said ignoring his mater’s unspoken question.
Although he knew the young boy Eri would not seek the skills of Master Dundalas, he knew the boy needed to be alone. "Very well," he replied, "May the stars focus you upon your endeavors, Eri."
Still floating above what he knew now to be himself as a young child, he saw himself offer the elven departing greeting to Master Venerin in return and walk away in the direction of the castle, though he knew that was not going to be his destination. Many times, and mostly in response to being bested by his older brother in their combat training sessions, he would seek solace in a small clearing he came across during one of his walks.
Traversing the dense forest, he found the split tree that marked the spot where he needed to head slightly more west. It was fortunate for him that this tree had been split by lightning years ago. If it had not, he doubted his ability to return to the small clearing on his repeated visits. Though now at the age of thirteen, having trodden the paths in the forest endlessly as part of his education, he was able to successfully navigate the wooded maze by a plethora of physical landmarks. However, he still liked the familiarity offered by the split tree as an indicator of his approaching solace. When he entered the clearing he was finally able to be free of everything. Free of his father's oppressive instruction schedule. Free of his mother's insistent pampering. Free of his Elven Kin's sideways glances, even now, suggesting their inherent superiority. But most of all, free of Rend, his perfect brother who always seemed able to best him at everything. And the very worst part about it was his brother’s innate goodness. For all practical purposes, Rendunial was the model older sibling. He never excluded Eri from participation, instead seeking to include him in all of the activi
ties and formalities required by the status of Elven Prince, even though he was not.
Seeing his younger self on this day allowed the full recollection of the emotions he was feeling surge to the surface of his consciousness. This moment, this day when he was still very young, had its roots grown deep from yet another childhood memory, a memory he would never forget and a memory he would never forgive.
Rend's insistence that Eri be treated the same as he had culminated when tempers had erupted following an incidence when Eri was included into a game of Drith’el’linic. Eri had asked to participate in one of the nightly games with the older elven boys. At first, there were audible but hushed protests until the leader of this particular group had agreed to allow Eri to participate. "Are you serious, Tlinel?" was the response from one of the boys.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I think Eri will be outstanding. Let us play Drith’el’linic today!"
"I do not know that game," responded Eri.
"It is usually reserved for the older boys because it is physical in nature, but I think you will do well, that is, if you are still up to the challenge?" Tlinel said, issuing an inherent challenge that appealed to Eriboth's sense of inferiority.
"Yes I am! Thank you," said an excited Eriboth, for this was the first time he was included in the games when absence of his older brother.
Because this was a team sport, the selection process began, but only after a few more complaints were vocalized toward Eri’s inclusion. The leader, Tlinel, was the captain of one of the teams and he picked Eri first. The broad grin splitting the young boy's lips was both from surprise and joy. When he was included in the games, largely at the insistence of his elder brother, he was always, always picked last. Physically he was able to hold his own with the older elves, but he did struggle, more from age than inherent inferiority relating to his different race. And though he was never the fastest, strongest, or most agile, he never gave up. Every time he was knocked down from an errant elbow or knee, he rose again and continued. But today, his brother was not present to participate in the games resulting in Eri not benefiting from the natural blanket of protection offered by The Prince.
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 50
