Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1)

by Roberto Vecchi

  "That was quite a performance," said a masculine voice from behind her.

  Startled, she turned around to see a man dressed in fine clothing standing in front of three other men, "I did not mean to startle you, my dear," he said wearing a compassionate expression.

  "Oh, I am sorry. I was just thinking. Thank you. Yes, thank you for the compliment," she responded while she began walking toward the tavern.

  "Do you not have any more time for a fan of your voice? I only wish to speak with you for a moment or two," said the man as three other men joined him outside.

  "Oh, I am sorry. If I was not working also, I would, but I have to make sure my guests are taken care of," she said as she passed by him.

  "I am quite sure your guests will be fine," he said as one of the other men stepped to block her progression toward the door.

  She immediately stopped and looked at the man standing in her way. She took a step back and turned toward the man speaking to her. "What is this about?"

  He nonchalantly answered her, "Nothing much, my dear. I just wanted a moment of your time," he paused considering his following words, "to listen to an opportunity I have for you; an offer, of sorts.”

  Athlorial stepped back and bumped into one of the men who was originally standing behind the lead man. She failed to notice his new positioning when she was walking toward the door. The leader continued, "Do you know who I am?"

  "No," she responded.

  "I am Lord Coric of De’Grath. I came a long way to see you, my dear. And as it turns out, what my agents were telling me about you was completely correct," he stepped close to her and raised his hand gently to her cheek as he continued, "Yours is a voice without rival. A voice I would like to hear again."

  Beginning to feel fear from the realization that her current situation was one of growing peril, she answered with a shaky voice, "I sing here quite frequently. If you come back next week, you will be able to hear me again. Now, if you would be so kind, I do have to get back in." She tried again to bypass the man blocking her way, but he grabbed her around the shoulders and pushed her backward into the outstretched and waiting hands of Lord Coric De’Grath who intercepted her with a loud chuckle.

  "You misunderstand me, my dear. My offer is not for me to continue coming here to see you, but for you to come with me." She struggled to escape his grasp, but was held fast. He pulled her closer to him in response to her struggles and whispered, "You will like being mine. You will like it very much." To the man who had first grabbed her, he said, "Pull the carriage around to the back entrance here. I do not suspect anyone will be out here for a few more minutes. But do not delay. The absence of a beauty such as this is not likely to go unnoticed or allowed for long. Better yet, meet us at the corner of that street. I do not think the carriage can fit down this alley."

  As one of the men began to jog down the alley, Lord Coric, still holding Athlorial by the arms from behind, began pushing her in the same direction. After a few paces, she stomped on his foot, twisted in his distracted grasp, and punched him in the stomach. The unsuspecting Lord Coric loosened his grasp enough to allow her to run. Had she been with only the Lord, her attempt's success would have been defined by more than a few free strides, but just as she had begun to believe her attempt was successful, she was pushed forcefully enough to be thrown to the ground. As she sprawled onto the dirt alley, her head collided with a broken, wooden pallet. With her vision blurred, her body weakened, and her hope slowly resigning, she still instinctively tried to crawl down the alleyway to her freedom. But her small candle of hope was extinguished when she was pulled from behind by a rough hand grabbing her foot.

  Being dragged around the corner and deposited like a bag of rotten and spent food fueled her conviction to resist and escape. Clarity now reigned as the desperation of her current situation snapped all functioning to her mind and body. As the Lord Coric descended upon her with his vicious intent, she kicked him squarely in the face generating a distinctly loud crunch from the bridge of his nose.

  "This one is going to give me a special satisfaction once I break her, boys. Hold her down," he said wiping blood from his face. Grinning as he licked blood from his finger, he turned his attention to Athlorial, "This should have waited until we reached my castle, but you have inspired me to begin the process now. This is your first lesson: struggling just makes it last longer and makes it more unpleasant."

  As his men began walking ominously toward her, she screamed violently and scrambled backward until she contacted the wall of the building behind her. Kicking violently, she was able to resist for a few moments, but the men soon overpowered her and grabbed her by the feet. Dragging her away for the wall, she managed to scratch one of them across the face. He bore his weight down upon her in a thunderous blow to her face mimicking the crunching sound of the Lord minutes ago. Pain exploded in her head from her cheek and then dissolved into a foggy red haze. The following events faded in and out of her senses. She did not remember much and would later be thankful for it. Her last vision was that of a blazing white light flashing in several directions. She thought she saw a face, but was confused when it was wielding a sword instead of writing in a book. She remembered being lifted gently and held lightly, almost as if she were floating across an unknown yet tender threshold.

  "Do you intend to sleep at all?" asked the short tavern owner.

  Looking up from the chair situated at the side of her bed and stopping his quill, he paused to consider his short friend. "My dear Nadalize, your concern for me is much appreciated, but I assure you, I have spent many sleepless nights in my travels. One or two more will not suffer the condition of my health any less so than confronting those heinous men." He looked down and continued writing.

  "Oh this I know," she said with an affectionate smile, "but after three nights, you must be tired. Your eyes certainly look it."

  "You are right. I am very tired, yet my sleeplessness is a condition I will endure for as long as is needed, Nada. I owe her that much," he finished as he looked toward her still motionless body on the bed. He had been waiting for her to display more solid signs of life than only the rhythmic movements of her breathing. At first, the methodical and easy up and down motion of her chest presented as an indication of hope, but after three days and nights of continual and uninterrupted observation without any indication of more animation, he had almost grown weary of it. Yet he could not because as monotonous as it had become, it was still the only sign of her life's continued fight; a fight he desperately hoped she would win because it would allow him to more fully know her. But more importantly, it would allow him to be known by her.

  "Eriboth, one day you must tell me exactly what your infatuation is with her. I am sure you find her attractive, but I highly doubt a simply physical attraction would be enough to keep you without sleep for these last nights," she said as she bent over and kissed him on the top of his head. "I do not think I will ever be able to thank you enough for whatever it is though. Had you not been inspired, she would certainly be in much more peril. Are you hungry for breakfast?"

  "Yes, I am actually. Thank you very much."

  "Your usual?"

  "Of course."

  As the short tavern owner exited Athlorial's room, Eriboth stood up slowly and walked over to her window. He turned the rusty crank mechanism a few times to open it and allow the slight and refreshing breeze to permeate the bedchamber. For the better part of his life since he had left the magical elf city of Meckthenial, he had wandered the realm sleeping under the stars vastly more times than under a solid, or semi solid roof. He had become so accustomed to the fresh wind and elements that whenever he had spent an extended period of time sleeping within four walls, the thickened interior air would build in its confinement of his wandering nature.

  Losing himself in memories of home and hearth, he had not been aware of Nadalize's return with his plate of food. He was surprised when he turned and saw the fresh plate sitting on the nigh
t stand next to his chair and chuckled because she was the one person whom he trusted completely and need not maintain his elevated, battle-honed awareness around. Smelling the freshly cooked meat and steamed potatoes brought his hunger to the surface of his consciousness, a consciousness that had previously been dominated by thoughts of the young woman still resting quietly in the confines of her soft sheets and softer pillow.

  He walked over to his chair and gently sat down as not to wake or disturb her. He was very anxious to speak with her and discover more about this beauty, but he was also steadfastly resolved not to do anything to prevent her healing. The bruising around her face was turning into a spectacular rainbow of colors ranging from the deepest of purples to the brightest of yellows. He had seen worse bruises, much worse in fact, during his time spent in the after effects of battle; but the bruises of his fellow combatants and foes, even those he occasionally suffered, were all a result of the guilty. Though never before had he borne witness to the scars of battle on one who was entirely innocent, let alone one who occupied him as she had the very same night she suffered the wounds.

  Staring out of the still opened window, he saw the rays of the sun just breaking over the rooftop of the building across from The Dragon's Lair. With the warmth they brought and the light they bestowed to brighten the room, his mood seemed to darken. He was aware he had killed a visiting Lord from the adjacent Province, and judging by the skill of the dispatched guards as well as the finery he had worn, the Lord was both prominent and important. All this meant that even in her defense, Eriboth was likely to be arrested by the local authorities once word reached the home province of the Lord. Nadalize had done her best to assure the guards that none of her guests had stepped outside in the night, but once the investigation was perpetuated by the influence and politics of Royalty, she would be forced to give up names, names that would undoubtedly lead to questioning. And he knew that someone must have seen him exit. Not only that, but he knew that nearly everyone had seen Athlorial exit as well. His time at The Dragon's Lair, and consequently with her, was limited.

  As he finished his meal and set his plate down on the end table next to his ever present book, he saw Athlorial begin to stir. Rather than approach her bed and possibly alarm her thus stressing her healing body, he remained silent and continued his observation.

  With her eyes closed, he heard her weakly say, "Nada, I had a horrible dream." He decided to continue with his silence, but when she did not hear a response from her surrogate mother, she continued, still with her eyes closed, "Thank you for the breakfast, Nada, but my head hurts and I am not hungry."

  Again he did not answer, and again she spoke, this time turning her head and opening her eyes, "Nada? Are you there?"

  Seeing her squint in the sun light, he felt it better to answer instead of allowing her to wake to a strange man sitting next to her bed after the recent events, "I am sorry, My Dear. Nadalize is not here right now."

  Startled by the masculine and unknown voice when she had expected to hear the opposite, she instantly sat up. The resulting quick movement from her startled state forced her to recline to her full resting position as the throbbing increased tenfold and was accompanied with a deepened nausea. Eriboth took this moment to speak his reassurance, "I am sorry for startling you. I did not mean it and I can assure you that I mean you no harm."

  Weakly, she uneasily asked, "Where is Nadalize?"

  "You will find her downstairs tending to the demands of her tavern as usual. Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked gently.

  "Who are you?" she asked weekly again.

  "Presently, I am your caretaker, recently I was your defender, and for the foreseeable future, I will be your servant," he answered her question, continuing his gentle voice.

  "I do not need a caretaker," Athlorial said as she tried to rise only to introduce the back of her head with the soft velvety feel of her pillow once again.

  "The bruises on your face and your weakened state would suggest otherwise," he said as she sank into her bed.

  "What happened and where is Nada?" she asked again between the rather steep waves of her cyclical nausea.

  "I think it might be best for you to have a sip of this water and allow your head and body to continue resting," Eriboth spoke gently to her as he rose to approach her with is outstretched hand offering her some water.

  Instantly she became alarmed and expressed as much by forcefully stating, "Do not come any closer! Where is Nada?" she demanded.

  Halting his progression, Eriboth raised both of his hands palms facing her in defense and slowly retreated. "I am sorry to have startled you once again. I will fetch Nadalize for you, but I would like to set this mug of water near your bed so you can drink from it while I am gone. Will that be ok?"

  She looked to the pewter mug and then back to him, "I suppose that will be ok. But get Nadalize without delay!"

  She saw him slowly approach her bed with his hands held in a defensive and non-threatening position. Once close enough, he placed the mug of water on the bed table next to her. "I shall fetch her at once. Drink, you will feel better," he said as he slowly turned and walked out of her room.

  She felt awful. Her head echoed like the air surrounding a loud clasp of thunder must feel during the crescendo of a violent storm. She reached her hand to her face and gently rubbed her skin. The deep pain she felt at her touch mimicked how her face would feel after her mother was done releasing her hopelessness. Her chest was sore and tight as were her legs and arms. She felt like she was beaten, but had no recollection of the incident. And who was the man in her room? She had no recollection of him either, yet he apparently had a recollection of her. She was sure Nada would be able to answer her questions as soon as she appeared. But more importantly, she had to make sure she would be in suitable health for tonight's performance, a performance that would surely draw the largest crowd The Dragon's Lair had yet seen. No matter what, she owed it to Nada to perform.

  Whoever the man was, and however he came to be in her room, he was right in his assessment that she would feel better upon drinking some water. Now that she was undistracted by sound, she felt a drought develop in her mouth and throat, and upon her lips. She slowly sat up and reached for the small, pewter mug. Though the pounding behind her eyes did elevate with the position change of her head, it was not enough to overtake her control. Though struggling against her continued nausea, she was able to maintain a seated posture. Pausing for a moment to gain a little more strength, she reached for the cup and felt her fingers find a bit more confidence as they clenched the cool handle. Bringing the liquid to her lips offered the refreshment one might experience when drinking water after emerging from the heat induced dryness of the desert.

  "Well, it is certainly good to see you sitting up! You had me very worried! How do you feel?" she heard a familiar voice say from the doorway. Fearing the pounding within her head would increase with even the slightest movement, she did not turn her head toward the voice. But she need not have visual confirmation to know to whom it belonged to.

  "Nada," Soliana managed but could continue no more as she started to cry.

  The older woman walked quickly to the young and hurting girl and hugged her as she did the first night they met. Comforting her by stroking her deep red hair, she said, "Now do not cry, My Little Eklirin. You will be ok. This is not your fault."

  Speaking between muffled tears and a throbbing head, the young woman said, "I do not even know what happened, Nada. I just remember having this awful dream. A dream where I was being beaten by a horrible man whom I did not even know."

  "I know child, I know."

  "Was it a dream, Nada. Please tell me it was a dream."

  Still holding the young woman, she wished nothing more than to tell her it was nothing more than the fading mist of her subconscious mind as she slept, but it was not. And this woman deserved to know the truth. "I am sorry, but it was not a dream."

  "Why, Nad
a! Why did this happen to me?" She asked as her tears flowed as freely as a riverbed after the monsoon season.

  "I do not know, My Eklirin. But I do know we should be thankful that someone was there to help you and return you to me," she said as she silently cursed herself for delaying Eriboth in his pursuit of Athlorial following her performance. If she would have just let him pass without her imposed delay, he would have reached her much sooner, and quite possibly prevented the entire altercation. However, she did not. And as the matter progressed, it would undoubtedly place him and Athlorial in the more unavoidable attention of the city guard; not to mention the attention of the neighboring province.

  After Athlorial had rested against the heart of the tavern owner as she had years ago, and been able to cease her tears, she asked, "The man in my room, was it he who saved me?"

  "Yes it was. Do you know who he is?"

  Wiping her tears with the sleeve of her bed shirt, she gingerly answered, "No. I do not believe I have ever seen him before. I would like to thank him. Is he still here?"

  "Yes, he is. I told him to wait in the dining hall. He has hardly left your bedside since he carried you to it. Though I am quite sure he feels a debt to you."

  "I do not understand, Nada. How can he feel a debt to me? It is I who am indebted to him," she said in protest.

  Giving her one last hug, Nadalize stood up and walked toward the doorway. Turning to look affectionately at the younger woman, she said, "I do not understand either, Athlorial, but there is much about Eriboth that does not fit into the realm of normal understanding."

  "Eriboth? Who is that?" she said as her voice trailed off into silence with the horrible realization that Nadalize referred to the author of the poem she was going to perform. "Do you mean to tell me he is here to see my performance of one of his poems?" She asked in a breathless exasperation as her consciousness was flooded with her current status and concluded she could not possibly perform one of his poems now, in his presence, and not until she was fully healed.