Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1)

by Roberto Vecchi

  "If there is no other reputation extending from these halls, it would be one of thoroughness. However, and make no mistake, Bengrako, there is a greater motivation at work than the simple reach of my sight and speed of my freedom," stated Eriboth with a slight grin.

  Interrupting their conversation was a female wearing the Red Robes of the initiates. She entered the room and carried something in her arms. She could not have been more than nine or ten years old, though she bore a greater weight than the frivolity often times beholden to a young girl of her age.

  "Hello, child," said Eriboth. "You do not need to put those clothes down as I will not need them."

  Stopping just short of the table she was approaching, she looked to Bengrako for his approval. He did not return her glance seeking instead to address Eriboth, "Come now, Eriboth. Our history would dictate the need for no such refusal. We seek only to adorn you with the clothing appropriate for your status and renown."

  "The definition of my status is carried by a greater covering than any such clothing you can to provide. Rest assured, though I be in rags, I am clothed in more than mortality can offer. I would ask to humbly refuse your generous gift," he asserted with no question expressed in the surety of his statement.

  "As you wish, but we seek only to offer you comfort in exchange for your service to us," Bengrako replied as he paused in the expectation that Eriboth would concede.

  "As such, my comfort does not come from the refinement of the material used, nor will my agreement be lessened by the acceptance of an exchange," he said as the young girl was left to awkwardly witness a conversation beyond her current understanding.

  "Is it not customary as an act of courtesy to accept an exchange for services? Do we offend you by our courtesy?" asked Bengrako in a direct challenge to the white eyed warrior.

  "Is not the condition of charity and giving a result of being offered nothing in return, nor requiring payment for that which was given freely?" asked Eriboth.

  "Charity? What possible charity can you offer us?" the Wizard replied as he increased his tone.

  "Because this gift was freely given to me, I will freely give it to you. Accepting your gratitude as anything but a verbal thanksgiving would be an indication of the price I paid for it. And, in truth, it was not I who paid the price," turning toward the young girl, he continued, "Thank you, Anaria, but the clothes will not be necessary."

  Seeing she was about to leave, Bengrako issued her a command, "Anaria, leave them on the chair in the corner."

  "Yes, Grand Master," she said as she walked to the chair, set the clothes down, and exited the room, but not before she turned and awkwardly bowed.

  As Eriboth was led, unbound, into the upper levels of the University of Knowledge, he played the role of subservient captive. Though he really did have no detection of light and hence was completely blind in every sense of the word, he could "feel" the locations of all physical objects within a radius equal to what he would have been able to see. There was a sort of internal map visible to his mind that if he followed, lead him in the right directions. Often times he was able to detect the correct pathway to take even before his captors indicated.

  As he continued walking, he revisited the third branch of the waterfall having experienced the darkness of the tunnel and the light beyond the door. The white of his surroundings faded, if white can indeed fade, and he saw the face of a man. Soft, genuine, purposeful, and undeniable, this man held the understanding of the crimes Eriboth had committed. True, these crimes were not committed against the laws of the land, but against the laws of joy, decency, and honesty. They were committed against the nature of good and just, complete and total, health and love. And in so doing, he had supported, promoted, and propagated those vices he had often times found himself set against on the field of battle.

  Battle, warrior, weapon, he had been all three, and on this branch of the waterfall, those words still resonated and reflected within the all-knowing eyes of this man. But he could not escape the greater portion of his gaze containing all the death and destruction left in his wake. Deeper he looked and further he became lost into the emotion of loneliness, neglect and rejection. This was the third branch of the waterfall; his own mortal pain. And it was now obvious to his progression, as true pain can be felt only when all else is removed; and when all else was removed by the piercing gaze of this man's all-knowing eyes, all that was left was Eriboth.

  "I must admit, your ability to negotiate these rather complex halls is quite impressive considering your blindness," stated Bengrako.

  "Why do you find it impressive? Would it impress you more to know that my sight is much clearer than yours?" said Eriboth as he turned his head to look at his capture.

  "I can assure you, your attempts at confusion and subterfuge will amount to nothing in just a short amount of time. Once you are under the examination spells of Esthinor, nothing will remain hidden," said the Grand Wizard as he turned to grin at Esthinor.

  "What makes you think I have something to hide?" asked Eriboth.

  "Is that not what you are doing? You claim to be blind, and the physical condition of your eyes would suggest its truth, yet you challenge the acuity of my sight by stating yours is greater. No doubt there is some greater purpose behind your agreement to my proposition." At Bengrako's accusation, Eriboth grew quiet and did not answer.

  Instead, he again focused within and lept from the third branch to the fourth branch of the waterfall. Unlike each of the previous three, which saw the focus alter to a different orientation entirely, this fourth branch, and the revelations contained within, were still a derivative of the man who dominated the third. But before Eriboth could be consumed by his own pain and loathing based upon the entirety of the path he himself had created, it was blocked by something greater than everything he possessed.

  Love, acceptance, value all surged from the vision of the man in the fourth waterfall. So much and so pure was His love, so perfect to behold, that it washed over Eriboth as though he was a miniscule insect being consumed by the rushing force of a river after its flow had been bolstered by days and days of rain. Yet in this river of surging love, he felt he required nothing to give in return, as if the act of being was simply enough to sustain its continued flow. He need do nothing, think nothing, nor change anything about his current conditions to warrant any greater portion of what he was receiving. And in truth, there could be no greater portion, for his portion was entirely perfect and complete.

  But this waterfall did not end simply with the conveyance of its love as a passive emotion. It continued to reinforce its perfection by showing Eriboth exactly the depths love was capable of swimming and the full extent of the action it provoked. Revealed to him in the visual journey through his life was the understanding of how his decisions and subsequent actions compiled to a summit of collateral misery resulting from his own selfish need for the promotion of his shattered emotions. All he had done, through nothing more than his deception of himself, caused so much pain to those who never deserved it. His life had amounted to nothing more than tears, bruised hearts, and shattered hopes. He had destroyed and nothing more.

  And yet this man, for no reason Eriboth had warranted, stood to love him, and accept his guilt and the price it demanded. Staring deeper into this man's eyes, he saw all of his pain; not Eriboth's personal pain, for it was completely gone, but the pain of those left in his wake. And with it, this man, this savior to Eriboth’s great self-deception of jealousy, removed any condemnation attaching itself to him and his deeds. How entirely selfless this man was. So much so that Eriboth's self-evaluation was miniscule and entirely insignificant in comparison. But with that revelation came the understanding of the beauty this man possessed. There was not one measurable potion he contained that betrayed any sense of selfishness. And this is where the fourth waterfall ended, where all of the branches converged upon each other to form a complete and ageless truth. This man was God.

  "Eriboth, ho
w fortunate we are that you will allow me to examine you and your curious eyes," said a voice. Eriboth’s journey through The University had ended and he found himself standing in front of another wizard, no doubt Esthinor. So involved was he in remembering the journey he had undertaken before being carried on the back of the Dragon, that his subconscious had acted upon his wakeful behalf and continued his actions as though he was consciously present.

  "Fortune implies a chance element into the equations of our mortal progression," Eriboth spoke in return.

  Looking at his eyes, seeking to gain knowledge of the man standing before him, Esthinor held no illusions regarding the silent challenge that had just been issued. But now was not the time of challenges and petty arguments, now was the time to assess this new potential threat. "Will you permit me to engage a simple spell to see into you? I assure you it will cause you no discomfort or harm. It is meant only to transfer unto me the physical state of your eyes; the structure of them to the point."

  "I am here am I not?" said Eriboth flatly.

  "Indeed you are. But as wizards, we take several oaths preventing us from utilizing our spells without permission. That is the purpose for my question, and not a lack of knowledge regarding the implication of your presence," said Esthinor with a small smile.

  "But could you not still impose upon me the will of your endeavors regardless of my allowance?" Eriboth asked to continue the discourse.

  "As a matter of ability, yes I, or we, could. But our oaths prevent it."

  "Does the utterance of your oaths stand as a magical impediment to your spell's release, or is it merely an audible portrayal of your moral edicts?" Eriboth continued his bold questioning.

  At the end of this question, Esthinor paused in an attempt to search for its purpose; for he knew there was one. After a moment of mental preparation, and while Eriboth sat silently patient, he answered, "It is a verbal commitment we all take derived from the understanding that what we possess, if used inappropriately and forcefully, can have detrimental consequences. But no, there is no magic binding the prevention of our spells regardless of the agreement, or lack thereof, of the subject."

  "So who then is left to decide the appropriateness of your actions?" followed up Eriboth.

  "Well, we are," Esthinor answered as he and Bengrako sought each other's agreement.

  "You? As a governing body? Or do you mean 'you' as the singular entity who's governing moral code presides as the standard upon which all things draw their merit?"

  "It would be impractical for any wizard to rely upon the convened agreement of the whole council when immersed in a moment requiring an immediate decision," answered Esthinor

  "So then it is the evaluation of the individual wizard that stands as the governing status behind which all decisions are made, even those whose effect is contained only to the governed subject and not the wizard himself?" Eriboth summarized the entirety of their conversation, and waited, patiently, for a response.

  As Esthinor, again, was forced into quiet consideration, he finally understood the trap he had fallen into; or rather, was lead into. "Of course, there is much more complexity to the statements you have made, but to answer your direct question, yes. It is indeed up to the consideration of the individual wizard acting within the moment."

  Eriboth, through his white eyes, stared directly at the wizard, offering no place for his returned gaze to hide. The wizard's intent stood open to him and his questions. There was nothing hidden and no response required, for Eriboth knew. And in his knowledge, he asked one final question, "What if you are wrong?"

  The silence was complete. Neither Esthinor, nor Bengrako, who had unknowingly assumed a positon of subservience regarding Eriboth's line of questioning, was able to respond with an adequate retort to his final inquiry. Sensing this, and because the silence prevented the true endeavor set upon Eriboth's will, he broke it, "Regardless, I am here to be read. So let your reading begin."

  Both Bengrako and Esthinor looked at each other after a moment's pause. This was not the same man who held his sword a hair's breath away from Bengrako's neck years ago. But he was here, and so were they; and Esthinor's agenda would not and could not wait. He needed to discover the source of Eriboth's sight. "Very well. As I evoke the incantation, you will notice a small probe enter your mind. It will feel like something warm and comforting at first, but the sensation of heat will grow as it becomes more focused upon your eyes. Please, do not be alarmed. It is a very innocuous spell and will cause you no harm whatsoever. You may, as several people have in the past, actually find the experience pleasant," he waited for a visual or audible response indicating Eriboth's understanding, but receiving none, he continued, "Very well. Let us begin."

  The stoic, sightless man did indeed feel a warmth within, just as Esthinor had indicated. And true again to his words, it began to grow as it prodded in an attempt to find a pathway leading it to the structures of his white orbs. He was able to "see" the concentration upon Esthinor's intent. And though, to all outward appearances, it was initially focused on the structure of his eyes, as the wizard had indicated, it was not long before it began to search for something deeper.

  Esthinor, just before he released his spell, added a small caveat. He did not deceive the warrior regarding his intent. It was indeed an attempt to gain greater knowledge in regards to his deviation from known anatomy and physiology, but there was a second endeavor he did not share with Eriboth, or even Bengrako. There was something dwelling within this man, a power, a force lying yet dormant, but nevertheless, immense in potential. Esthinor felt it when Bengrako first told him of the rumors surrounding Eriboth's unique and new ability. But sharing a more intimate proximity with the renowned warrior, he was convinced of his initial estimation. Eriboth housed something he was not able to explain, something he needed to further examine.

  Though he did not know why, he knew of its validity. The eyes were indeed the window to the soul; however, it did not refer to the generalized statement of vaguely mystical references the majority of those who remained unschooled evoked as an enigmatic explanation for things they did not understand regarding the mortal design. It was in reference to the magical pathways throughout the mortal body, specifically designed with the gateway being the eyes. If one wanted to magically examine the foot, he had to enter through the eyes first, and then follow the correct pathway. The same was true for the heart and all other physical structures. What Esthinor lacked in the popular battle applications for magic, he more than made up for in his knowledge of the physical and mental processes. And he was convinced the pathway to examine this greater aspect hidden within this warrior was the same as all other pathways.

  Sight was not something mortals were ever meant to follow. Eriboth understood this now. Mortals were meant to follow love. And as this Man, God incarnate was love; therefore, mortals were meant to follow Him. So he did. He allowed Esthinor entrance into the depths of him by allowing the spell to be released without hindrance or protection. True, upon gaining entrance into the substance of what Eriboth was through the gateway of his eyes, this wizard would be able to release any number of spells upon his mentality and physicality, and if intended, could render him incapacitated. And though the weapons at the hands of the wizards could be catastrophic, he need not fear their prosperity, for it was by the leading of this love that he came to the wizards. And as such, none of their weapons would bear a poisonous fruit.

  Esthinor searched for the required structures and found no trace of them. Understanding that any magical alteration of the mortal body left a magical trace of its prior state, he was able to conclude that Eriboth had not been altered by magical means. In fact, what he found at the spaces of his eyes could not even be called eyes. There was no energy within them and they held no intentional functioning. Furthermore, there was no magical signature of any physical structure being present at all. They were, for all magical intents, non-existent.

  He had expected to find some remna
nt of Eriboth's eyes to support his initial hypothesis that he had encountered a wizard in one of his recent battles and had lost. That this wizard had utilized magic to achieve victory and permanently changed the warrior was the only possible explanation. But his spell revealed much to the contrary and stood as yet more evidence suggesting the hidden power was the cause of this transformation. So he decided to leave the eyes and follow the power into the more substantial aspects of Eriboth's mind. He examined all corners of his consciousness and found nothing able to shed some much needed light upon his darkened and confused state. And yet the pathway was still present, pulling him deeper and deeper inside the warrior.

  Eriboth knew that which the wizard sought, at least, he knew there was something greater the wizard was seeking. He began to feel it as well, like a spring of fresh water barely beginning to bubble in response to the cleaning rains after a long drought. But unlike the spring of fresh water, it did not end simply because its source ceased to feed it. This spring continued to feed Eriboth's subconscious. The further he followed Esthinor's spell inside himself, the more of the spring he felt, and the greater his desire to feel more.

  There was a freshness, a truth to the river of clean water he was following inside the warrior. Further down its current he traced until he saw a majestic, almost incomprehensible waterfall pouring over the edge of everything mental regarding Eriboth's existence. Esthinor had never encountered something such as this in his years and years of magically delving into the depths of all things mortal, physical, mental, or otherwise. He was both intrigued and apprehensive all at once. And as his spell continued to allow him to seek further entrance into this man, this warrior, he began to understand there was something entirely immortal residing within him. Such was the potential for greater knowledge and understanding that Esthinor continued his search to the very edge of the waterfall.

  Standing at the edge of everything he once knew about himself, Eriboth joined the wizard at its edge. There they were, both powerful aspects of mortality, each unequalled in their chosen fields of excellence, standing at the very end of their understanding. Esthinor, rooted as firmly as the Great Plainwood trees of the Endless Forest in the aspect of knowledge, was unable to see beyond these limits, while Eriboth could see past the surface of the crashing of the water into the pool beneath. He knew he had to jump, to dive in completely and utterly, for that is where the love of the Man, the God, was telling him to go. And dove he did.