As the vomiting subsided and her eyes began to dry, she braced herself with her hands upon her knees, inhaled slowly, exhaled even more slowly, and straightened. Taking a few unsteady strides, she found herself standing over the lifeless form of King Rendunial. She was new to his employ, only a few weeks, but even in the short time she was exposed to him, she had grown to admire him for the kind-hearted and genuine Elf she had come to know. As she knelt down beside him, she whistled for her most trust-worthy traveling companion; the jet black, powerfully muscled and gracefully built, Southern Champion Thoroughbred, Ninidras. The Black Stallion was a parting gift to her from Psumayn, the leader of the Order of Chaos, when she embarked upon her journey to the Elves.
Without hesitation, the faithful horse trotted over to her, knelt down as if sensing what her task was, and assisted her as she hefted the fully armored and heavy body of King Rendunial upon its back. After securing the king to the stallion, with a lithe grace birthed from the combination of natural athleticism and honed, physical prowess, she mounted Ninidras taking a position in front of the King's. Avoiding any further hesitation and influx of emotions, she purposefully turned away from Eriboth's body and headed back to the city of Meckthenial to deliver the horrible news that would alter the progression of Elven history for all the coming ages.
Yet in spite of her formidable mental barriers, the rhythmical trotting of her stallion's hoofs lulled her mind into an emotionally drained numbness where it was freely allowed focus upon all of her previously repressed memories. She caught herself drifting back to images of Eriboth on their last night spent together, over twenty full years ago. She remembered the dancing, the laughter, his eyes focused only upon hers. She could remember his heavy, musky scent as he pulled her close during the endless songs. Though she was unable to remember to whom she was introduced, she clearly recalled that he never failed to introduce her to all who approached him. How could a man look and feel so elegant and yet be void of anything that did not reflect who and what he was? She remembered the heat of his breath upon her neck as he would spontaneously lean close to her to inhale followed by a sigh that carried so much more than any words ever could.
She remembered his hands that never parted from her. Whether they were enjoying the complex and formal Royal dances, or the ruckus, jovial, and more chaotic dancing later in the evening, whether they were sitting down eating the fabulous dinner, or standing and talking with the other guests, he was with her. Whether it was just the smallest touch of his hand on her lower back, or the firm, interlocking grasp of each other's hands, she never felt without his presence. More importantly, however, she knew he never wanted to be without hers. Throughout the previous week, much of it spent within each other's company, she internally questioned his affections for her; however, this evening saw all resolutions to those questions delivered by the revelation that his pain ran as deep as hers. He was as taken by her as she was by him. He needed her as much as she needed him.
Silently admonishing herself, she pushed all thoughts of him and that night away from her consciousness and set her mind upon the task rapidly unfolding before her. Her King was dead. The sole reason she had left her solidified future within the Order of Chaos and made the arduous journey across the length of Avendia was to participate in the Tournament of Light. At first she protested when she was selected by Psumayn as their representative because she believed there to be at least four others who could best her in melee combat; but when he remained steadfast in his decision, she relented her questioning.
She still remembered the final words of their conversation, "Within you, hidden behind your pain, there is an inferno of which you are afraid. Your journey to the elves is required to release it. God help they who face it."
"I do not believe in God," she coldly replied.
"Your belief in Him is not required for His existence. Nor is it required for His belief in you."
She was tired. The emotions of the last few days were forcing themselves entrance into her consciousness regardless of her attempts to disallow them a foothold. Her mind again floated to the last night she spent with Eriboth. They stayed until the very end and only after being politely asked to retire to their bedchambers by a rather apprehensive servant, did they leave the grand ball room. She remembered wanting to be so close to him that she would never forget the way she felt when she was around him. She remembered their silence as he escorted her back to her room above Nadalize's tavern holding his arm the whole way. She remembered standing in front of him, facing him, before the threshold of their parting, her heart beginning to accelerate as she looked as deeply in him as he looked in her. She remembered every aspect of his deep green eyes as he leaned closer to her. The swirling pools of green, and their ever inclusion of her depths woke within her a confidence and freedom, and when he gently kissed her, she allowed herself to let go.
They plummeted into each other as their kiss, beginning with all the gentleness of a faint and refreshing summer breeze, soon evolved into the deep revelational condition of a freedom found only in the touch of completion. Fluidly, their lips, hands, and souls combined to create an environment where there were no questions, only answers; and the answer to everything was more. A great need was building within them as the heat of their generously giving lips and tongues were generating an inferno of motion and submission to each other’s intent. He gave to her, and she gave to him. When the ferociousness of the air surrounding them seemed to explode, and the need for more was the only focal point for them, he lifted her up and carried her up the stairs to her room and to their freedom.
She still knew where she was, seated on the back of her stallion with her dead king secured behind her, but that was only the physical condition of her location. Just like the night they spent together, she gave herself to him again, if only in the confines of memory, she was his. So much so, she could feel him spin her around and kiss her from behind as his hands sought her breasts. She could feel him feast upon her neck while his fingers efficiently worked to undo the fabric separating their bodies. Groaning from desire, she spun in his arms to face him and undressed him as he was undressing her, their kiss never ending, for no matter what happened tonight, their kiss contained the conveyance of their pain, their need, their freedom; for its work was yet incomplete, and hence could not be relented. When they were fully naked physically, she felt his hands reach the side of her face and draw her more closely into his heart than she ever thought possible. She felt and knew he wanted her to see him in totality through the depth of their connection. And she responded by engulfing his open mouth and tongue into her whole being.
When not even their skin stood in the way of their souls, when their hearts had given and taken completely to and from the other, when their consummation was solidified and their existence was indistinguishable from the other, their lips stopped, and their eyes began. With hands holding each other's head, their eyes held no former aspect of their pain, or the resulting insecurities. Instead, their locked gaze contained everything divine in the selfless and unconditional union between two broken hearts that had been mended by the presence of the other. In a dreamlike state, she felt him lower her onto the bed, never risking losing sight of her stare, for she saw everything she felt reflected in them. Her legs instinctively parted for him and she felt the hard pressure of more between them. She felt the weight of his body press against hers and the weight of his soul, existing completely for her, begin to encompass her. And then, gently, slowly, and infinitely, he pulsed. And time stopped.
As Ninidras continue to trot toward the most important moment of her life, she was completely lost and unaware of anything existing around her. Not the trees, nor the road, nor the rain now gently beginning to fall from the gray sky could begin to penetrate the absence of pain created in the singular moment of her life when she was completely her without the effect of the past. She remembered how slowly they began, in an effort to become everything for each other, and how rapidly their love
making evolved into an intensely passionate river of liquid heat. While riding the increasingly dynamic currents of their molten passion, all transitions faded and regardless of how they took and gave to each other, there was only one, together, complete, and divine. For whether she mounted him, or he took her from behind, whether laying on the bed, falling to the floor, or pressed against the wall nothing mattered except that for whatever reason, they had found each other. And in their repeated acts of unconditional love, they became.
Fiercely now, they reacted to all the perfection placed within this moment of time and endeavored to drown all the pain away with a singular explosion of hope and trust. Intently pulsing and thrusting, causing all the walls of their pasts to melt utterly, they threw themselves into the current of life embodied in their connection and, with abandon, gave relentlessly everything they had. All of their passion, all of their pain, and all of their love soaked power was placed within the clenching of each other. Building from within, its genesis clearly in the realm of something beyond her understanding, her need to release grew. She felt him respond from the same primal necessity. And as they elevated each other to a platform void of everything including the air, there was nothing that could stop them; for there was just the two of them in creation, and all that was created was only them. She heard his breath quicken and transform into low, guttural grunts. She became aware of her voice calling out to him, and in the moment when he answered, they exploded from the depth of their hearts.
When she felt the tears coursing down her cheeks, she opened her eyes and realized it was raining. She took a brief moment to wipe them as dry as she could, survey her surroundings, and judge she had traveled only half of the way to the Elven city where the betraying Queen and the Princess Glinovia awaited with the expectation of the King's return with Eriboth in chains. But now, although she was employed by the King and carried the weight of his authority as such, she was still largely unknown to the rest of the elves, which meant she was still untrusted. How were they going to react to the news she brought? There were many cultures who believed the bearer of ill news was ill themselves and deserved the same punishment as those involved in the making of such illness. Having had no previous experience with the elves before, she was not sure how they would react, but instead of flee, the honor of her position and the oaths she had taken extended beyond the life of her now dead employer. They extended to who she was; therefore, she had no choice but to see her current task to completion regardless of its outcome to her well-being.
Yes, she was afraid, but she had been afraid for most of her life. Yet there was one moment, one night where that fear was non-existent. No doubt because of the uncertainty of her current situation and the renewed consideration of its potentially poor outcome, the freshness of the fear pushed her to revisit the singular time when there was none; lying next to him. She closed her eyes and all but felt the rapid beating of his heart as their love-making came to a symphonic conclusion. As the moments became minutes, and they recovered together from their physical exertion, her head lying upon his chest, she became aware of, for the first time, certainty. They were together and would always be so.
Throughout the long years of her young life, nothing was every certain. Because of that, she had always felt fear regarding what was just around the corner. When she was alone, mostly at night in the solitude of her own thoughts, she entertained an endless amount of what if's. Instinctively her mind entered the familiar pattern as she lay just on the borders of sleep, but whereas before there was no answer, now there was. Him. He would be with her and she with him. Regardless of the what if's now dancing within her thoughts, he would always be there, removed from them, apart from them, and away from them. And for the first time in her life she felt a peace absent of the fear of the unknown, because she would always know him.
For the briefest of moments, though all such moments felt brief to her, the light trotting of Ninidras's hooves upon the dirt and rocks of the road beneath halted, the light rain no longer wetted her brilliant blonde hair, and the endless questions stayed their incessant intrusion. In that moment, when all her concerns stilled and she was fully emerged in the memory of a long lost hope, she almost began to believe again. But her peaceful, memory induced meditation was abruptly shattered before her belief could be restored by the high pitched shrieking of an unnoticed, single and lonely brendui bird.
Quickly opening her eyes, she instinctively reached for her twin blades worn on her back, but before completing her grasp and draw, her trance induced senses returned. She eased her grip recognizing the bird for what it was; a harsh reminder of her reality. Not since her youth, in fact, not since her time spent with Eriboth decades ago, had she been startled as strictly as she had just been. But then again, not since that time had she felt the peace of security and the certainty of safety. Just as she would never forget the night she spent with him, she would never forget the morning following their time of perfection either; for it lead to a cascading series of events that would result in more pain than she could bear. And she would never forgive him for it. Maybe because it gave her a renewed sense of fulfilled justice, or maybe because her mind needed the justification for killing him, or maybe just because it helped pass the time on this arduously slow return journey, she remembered her benefactor's voice break their peace years ago as forcefully as the brendui did hers today.
In the early hours of the morning, Nadalize would sit and reconcile the weekly intake of money against the expenses for operating The Dragon’s Lair. There were many times, especially after her husband had left, that she had wanted to close the doors to the Dragon's Lair forever and leave the debt, worry and doubt behind. But that was several years ago. Whenever she thought she had finally made that decision, something pulled on her and she just could not do it. Perhaps it was the concern and personal responsibility she felt for all of her employees, or perhaps it was her drive to succeed and let nothing discourage herself to the point of giving up, or perhaps it was her dedication to the community she had become part of that prevented her from chaining the doors. Either, any, or all were certain influences; but she had to admit that one factor stood above the rest. She really did enjoy what she had created. Removed from all of the interpersonal issues with her employees, removed from all of the demands of her customers, and standing far away from all of the business aspects of owning and operating a tavern, she had created a reflection of her own heart. She had created a place of connections. And that thought alone fueled her to persist during the lean times when money was spent before it was earned and loans were required just to keep the doors open and the ale flowing.
When she concluded her reconciliation, she smiled and proudly closed her accounting book. Her gamble had born more fruit than she had first thought. Last week was her largest intake of money yet. The combination of Athlorial’s voice and the fame of Eriboth's poetry had created an event drawing nobles from the surrounding areas. And when the nobles were in attendance to a non-exclusive event, the commoners flocked. True, the night of Athlorial's performance was by far the greatest draw, but the subsequent nights also saw her intake increase as her customers sought a similar experience. She was just about to get up from her desk when her door opened and a hooded figure appeared at its threshold.
"They are coming for him," the voice said. And after a brief pause it added, "Now."
Nadalize knew the reverberations of the night Eriboth saved Athlorial would reach not just their connection, but others as well. Because of that, she had the nobles of house Cuetori followed and their actions monitored. "How long?" She asked.
"Minutes," replied the husky voice.
"Thank you, you have done well," she said as she tossed a small pouch filled with coins.
Looking fondly at the pouch he had just caught, he offered an extension of his services, "For a small increase in this fee, I can eliminate the gravity of their current dilemma."
"Thank you, but that will not be necessary. Now go. You
cannot be seen here," she said as she gently waived her hand dismissively.
He nodded his head and silently slipped away.
Quickly standing, Nadalize rounded her desk and made her way to Athlorial's bed chamber. Upon her arrival, she hesitated briefly because she wanted to give them one more moment of peace before the weight of uncontrolled consequences came crashing down upon them. She breathed and fully opened the door, "Eriboth," she said as the severity of the moment took root and began to grow.
From the battle hardened awareness honed from years and years of living the life of a warrior, Eriboth was awake instantly with his sword extended toward the intrusion to his peace, "Nadalize," he said calmly, "what is the reason for this?"
"Eriboth, they are on their way?" Just then, they heard knocking from below, presumably on the door to the tavern. Athlorial had just woken up, saw Nadalize and then Eriboth's drawn sword and shrieked.
The last few seconds they remained together unfolded as a jumbled mess of input to her senses. Audibly, she heard Nadalize's insistence that he hurry, Eriboth's insistence that he speak with her, and the increasingly loud pounding on the door. In the end, Nadalize’s insistence won, and Eriboth left quickly, but not before he held her face within the grasp of his strong hands and said, "I will return." As he dissolved into her fantasy through the window, she smiled because though he had just left, the certainty of him, the belief in him remained, and she was still safe.
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 53
