She brought him meals, and it was a good thing that, because Zyndalia was not sure if he would remember to eat during his periods of withdrawn concentration had Liani not interrupted him from time to time with food. He would always smile and politely thank her which would always draw a smile from her in return. Her attention to him would linger as if she was trying to say more, possibly to thank him; however, she never quite worked up the metal to verbalize her rehearsed statements. On one occasion, Zyn was quite certain the woman had finally reconciled her will to her decision and was going to finally speak to him. Zyn saw Liana take a few steps away, pause for several moments, and then turn as if to walk back to Rony. But she did not as Rony had silently slipped away during her moment of consideration. Zyn had not noticed him leave either, or she would have directed Liani to his route and bid her follow.
Clearly frustrated, Liana was left standing there, looking around as if she had lost a valuable possession, on the verge of tears. When Zyndalia could stand the scene no longer, she spoke to address the woman, "Liana, did you lose something?"
"Oh, yes, well no, not really," she stammered as if trying to cover her true intent but fearing it had already been discovered. "I think I dropped something."
"Would you like me to help you find it?" Zyn asked, knowing full well the only thing the woman had dropped was the connection between her decision and its lost opportunity.
"Oh, no thank you. It was not of value. I am sure I will find another soon," said Liani with a small, halfhearted grin, again meant to cover her embarrassment.
"Are you sure? Because I can probably find it, considering I am its sister," Zyn, not patient by nature, could no longer maintain the disguise of Liani's intent which had been growing over the months since their rescue from the Goblins. During that time, she had grown to like Liani, mainly for her concern and care for her brother. He was not an easy person to stay connected with and even more difficult now. But Liana was always there, silently tending to his needs, whether it was giving him meals, or making sure his equipment was properly packed, or even making sure his horse was groomed. All the while, Rony's only returned attention was to offer a distant "thank you". But that seemed to be enough for the young woman.
Upon hearing Zyndalia's statement, Liani turned a slightly deeper shade of red than she had already been, but then she breathed a deep exhalation as if a rushing river previously restrained by a dam had now been allowed to flow and release some of the rising water's pressure. "Oh Zyn, I am trying, but he is just so withdrawn. I know he hurts inside. And it is all my fault."
"Your fault? How can it possibly be your fault?" Zyn asked.
"Because if I had not gone off that night, Miligos would never have followed me," she shuttered at his name, but continued, "and neither would Rony." She paused to weigh her next statement, “and then 'it' would not have happened"
Rony’s transformation from man into whatever he became, had been referred to as "it" because no one had any explanation for it, nor could they adequately describe it with a singular name. Zyn saw it, as did Liani, the first time it happened. And now, as a result of the meeting they held with Du'tothin, the number of those who witnessed his transformation had grown to at least five, and that number did not account for any curious on lookers peering through the tavern's windows to get a better view of the fight inside. But none of them saw it from Liani’s vantage point. None of the other witnesses could be linked to any causality, so it was only natural for the initial witness to assume she was the provocation, the catalyst. "You do not know that for sure, Liana. Whatever happened to him, and is happening to him, seems like it would have happened at some time anyway," Zyn said, attempting to lessen Liani's emotional burden.
"You might be right, but I do know it happened now because of me. He saved me twice, and now he hurts because of it," Liani's voice showed some of her emotional fatigue resulting from the burden she chose to carry.
"Come sit with me," said Zyn as she could see the defeat grow in her friend. The weary woman slowly sat down beside her and seemed to deflate even further. "My brother has never been easy to talk to. And now, even less so. I cannot tell if he is staring at something way off in the distance that none of us can see, or if he looks inside himself. There is so much now I do not know about him, but what I do know is this: he so rarely smiles these last days, but he always smiles at you."
"Does he?" said Liani as she smiled herself.
"Yes he does. Every time."
"I was going to talk to him just then, before he left that is. Now, I do not know where he went to follow him."
"You should try to find him," Zyn spoke as she tried to bolster her courage.
"I would, but I have to meet Dianali for my blade lesson. I thought with her injuries, they would not be as difficult, but the woman is relentless," Liani said as she turned her head back toward their encampment.
"Rumor has it that you have become quite good with your daggers," Zyn complimented her. And it was true. While all three of them had grown in their martial ability, Liana possessed a quickness of movement and intuitive feel for daggers that Dianali had identified and had taken advantage of.
"They just feel right when I am holding them."
"Would you like me to find Rony? I could tell him that you were looking for him and wanted to speak with him?"
"Do you think he will?"
"Of course he will! And if nothing else, I am quite certain he will smile."
"Thank you Zyn!" she said as she gave her a very tight hug.
Zyndalia could not help but smile as she watched Liana walk back to their encampment and the awful lesson from Dianali. After the woman faded from her view, she turned her head and looked in the direction Rony had to have left. As if on cue, the two pups came scampering up to nuzzle her hands as she affectionately scratched behind their ears, though the word "pup" was hardly appropriate now as they had nearly tripled in size over these last several months. Yet, in spite of their ages and growing familiarity with both Zyn and Rony, they still lacked names. Not that she had not tried, on several occasions, to bestow upon them a tag more appropriate than "hers" and "his", but each time she tried, the respective pup became agitated through the bond they shared.
"Let us see if this is the day. Would you like that? Would you like to be named today?" she said as she continued to scratch and pet the pups. In response, they both began wagging their tails a bit more vigorously.
"Alright then! Let me see," she said to them. She looked at her wolf, and after a moment of concentration, she felt a gentle calm across their bond. There was an unspoken quality about the female wolf that had grown as she aged. And this quality, difficult to quantify and describe, was beginning to assert itself within Zyndalia. She continued to concentrate on their bond until they both grew very still. Watered by their focused connection, the seed of this quality gently took root and birthed a sound. Another few moments of concentration passed and the sound had grown to its full maturity within Zyndalia. She had tried many, many known names for pets, but all had been thoroughly dismissed as offensive by her wolf. So when Zyn had spoken this one, a name or word she had never heard before, she had expected her pup to answer with a shallow growl of dissatisfaction in replication of its response to all of her other attempts. But this time it was not so. Instead, her wolf grew excited and began dancing around playfully as approval passed through their bond.
"Very will then! Inglorca it is!" The newly named wolf nearly toppled the seated Zyndalia over with her excitement at being given the correct name. Through their bond, Zyn was flooded with excitement and contentment. But with it came also a vague transference of mobilization, as if being unnamed was the final blockade standing in the way of their progression. But progression to what?
"What are you trying to tell me I wonder? I bet you know more than me," she said as she continued to stroke Inglorca's neck and ears. Preventing her from becoming lost in the excitement of the newly named female wolf, Ro
ny's pup had begun to demonstrate his anxiousness by repeatedly pawing at Zyndalia's hands.
"Oh, I have not forgotten about you. Today just might be your day too! How would you like that? Would you like to have a name like Inglorca?" Though her bond was much weaker with her brother's wolf when compared to hers, she was still able to feel vague emotions; and she felt a sort of excited but anxious energy from him.
"Ok, I will try for you again too, but I think Rony should be the one to name you."
At the mention of his name, Rony's wolf briefly looked in a single direction, no doubt the one Rony was currently in. But its attention was soon focused on Zyndalia with the same excited expectation she had felt before its attention had been shifted to Rony.
"As long as you insist. Let me try again," she said. In response, the pup grew a little more still, presumably to allow Zyn to focus. She concentrated on the male wolf, but it was proving much more difficult than it had with Inglorca. Frustrated because she did not feel the same transference of emotions, she was about to give up when she felt a slightly increased sensation of approval and encouragement. In those emotions, she saw her brother from his wolf’s eyes. She saw a young man standing and accepting the blame for everything that had gone wrong in his life and in the lives he affected. She saw him condemn himself and seek justice for his terrible crimes. She knew what he was feeling was not the true reality, but to her brother, it was. And so she saw not the amazing young man and brother she knew, the selfless man he had become, but the criminal worthy of only judgement and punishment he saw in himself. Seeing him so hurt and defeated, still she felt another unnamed emotion grow. She continued to concentrate on it. Just like with Inglorca, she felt a word beginning to form in a place beyond her knowledge of words and names. But this word did not readily present itself as it had with her wolf. After a few moments of concentration, the pup’s demeanor grew a little more impatient as did his emotional conveyance through their bond.
"Do not get all out of sorts. I am trying, but it is more difficult than it was with Inglorca," she retorted which seemed to have a calming effect on the male pup. "Now let me concentrate."
For a moment, Zyndalia did not feel any solidification to the word floating just out of her recognition. But after a moment, as it did with Inglorca, this day saw another sound form in her mind. Different and masculine, it was the only name that presented itself. "Xunmerco," she finally said. And just as Inglorca, her brother’s pup nearly toppled her over with excitement.
"Very well! Now it seems you both have the proper names. You are Inglorca and Xunmerco! Though I have no idea where they came from nor what they mean. Now, I had better find Rony and get him back to the others. Borinth will not be very pleased if we do not leave on time, and I have yet all of my gear to organize and pack. And that means you had better remain unseen. I am still not convinced the rest of the group will receive a pair of wolves as readily as Rony and I have."
She felt sadness across both bonds. "I know, I know. But it is necessary for a bit longer. Though I do not know how much longer your presence can be kept a secret. You have both grown so much!" They said their final goodbyes, but not before Xunmerco pointed the correct direction for Zyn to take to find Rony.
Though he had traveled this path many times before, the long and lonely road of the unknown, never before had it been attached to himself. And never before had it been attached to anything but the search for knowledge. Though now, riding his stallion as he had done many times before, he knew, with certainty, it was no longer knowledge, nor his responsibility for its propagation, driving his endeavors. It was now his belief, his faith. And it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Still burning inside were the ever present, final words from The Great Gold Dragon; and though he knew everything he was supposed to do was dictated by this single directive, he knew its completion would not be found without firstly completing a list of prerequisites. The first of which being his growing need to find and survey this Dark Army.
His confrontation with the University and its newly elected Grand Wizard, his former friend, had told him there was a secondary threat standing in the way of the completion of his task. He was certain, with the emergence of this God and the principle of faith; this would not be the only battle he would face with the Wizards of the University. Riding as swiftly as Ethdios could gallop, he traveled over the countryside ignoring many of the longer pathways he would normally need to take. Perceived necessity allowed him to utilize his magic to swiftly cross wide rivers and tall mountains in a straight line path giving his journey a rapidity that should have been sufficient enough to bring the rumored Dark Army into the visible ability of his eyes. Yet, it still remained outside of his visual field.
However much he used his magic to ease the strain of travel for Ethdios, it could not interrupt the physical toll completely. As such, he stopped at several taverns and inns along the way, those he knew were hubs for the propagation of rumors, true and untrue alike, to allow him and his horse to rest. He had been to this particular tavern many times as it was located in the town of Tisdale, the location of one of the most enjoyable Selection Festivals he had ever been too.
When he had been seated for a few minutes in the corner, always his choice location because it allowed him to visually see the entirety of his surroundings, a serving girl approached him. She was quite attractive and had his severity of purpose been somewhat lessened than it was, he would have engaged her in conversation. But such that it was, he simply ordered a light ale and began to slowly sip it, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He had to admit to himself, he must look like a cross between a homeless vagabond and a street beggar. His robes were torn from his most recent battle, and because of his most recent frantic travel, they were worn to almost shreds. But his appearance would not stand in the way of his ability to gain knowledge regardless of how unpresentable he was.
While he was certain no one would engage him openly to answer his questions because of his awful appearance, he was nevertheless certain his magic would allow him to, unbeknownst to everyone else in the room, listen and learn. The silent casting of a simple acute auditory elevation spell allowed him to listen in on every conversation within one hundred feet. That was the easy part. The difficulty was in focusing one's attention while remaining open to the deluge of audible information that was about to assault his ears. As the simple spell's effect rapidly materialized, it took him a few moments to focus his attention and gain the orientation he needed.
Several hours, and several ales later, he heard mention of a farm a few miles outside of the city limits. Apparently, a man named Intari owned the farm and worked it with his family, but he never returned after escorting his son, Drin, to the Silver Selection. Apparently, the farm was still in operation as Intari's wife and two daughters still lived there and continued to oversee the day to day operations. If the army had passed, or is going to pass this area, as he deduced they would, they would undoubtedly pause to attack the farm and steal their food. Food was always a primary concern when marching armies a long distance across the land which is why they always kept their chosen pathways to the roads passing closest to farms. As he finished his ale, the noise in the room was instantly interrupted by an armed man bursting through the tavern door. "Grab your weapons. The Dark Army is here!"
Panic. Chaos. Those were the dominating results from the armed man's announcement. The men and women inhabiting the tavern looked around for a brief moment and then erupted into a frenzied driven action. Like a river overflowing its boarders, they flooded into the streets with the rest of the inhabitants of Tisdale. Intellos was soon to follow, but while the rest of the people sought to vacate and evade, he needed to engage, or at least, to observe. He knew where the army was headed, which meant he knew where he was headed as well.
He covered the distance to the farm quickly and in time to see the army begin its approach. But its numbers were much less than what he was originally led to believe by the numerou
s rumors. In fact, it should barely be called full battalion let alone a full army. However mislead he was regarding its size, or lack thereof, their numbers were still substantial enough to cause havoc throughout the land, but nowhere near what they needed to fulfill the hope of taking the Stone Keep. He would have intervened and saved the farm, or at least tried, had he not had a greater mission. He needed information regarding this army's tactics. The more information he could impart to Lord Myosk, the more prepared they would be for the eventual siege. So atop his horse he sat and waited.
The garrison of Tisdale was substantial enough to repel all numbers of barbarian raids, and should have been able to hold against this force as well, but as the two opposing sides met on the edges of the farm, it was soon evident the advantage of the Dark Army had extended beyond simple physical supremacy. They were aided by magic, but a magic Intellos had not been able to previously detect. This was very troubling to him because if he could not detect it, then it was based in something other than knowledge, something other than what he was prepared to combat. Again, in spite of the urge to intervene and stop the carnage, he withheld in order to gain more information in preparation for the real battle.
But when he glanced to the homestead, his ability to withhold his involvement was met with a force greater than he could contain; for he saw, being roughly dragged from the home, two small females, presumable the daughters of Intari. Overcome with the need to act, his emotional aspect flew into a type of rage. Not born from hate, he raged against the injustice he was witnessing. Instantly he plunged into the depth of his reservoir, summoning all of his considerable ability and released it upon the advancing army. Taking form as a horrible storm, whose ravishing winds blew, exceeded only by the ferocity of his summoned lightning, he withheld nothing and loosed everything.
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 74
