Completing his edified soliloquy amidst cheers from his goblin companions, the leader slowly drew his wicked blade again. Rony barely noticed, too absorbed into his self-grief and pity, the leader circling him as a predator would his prey. Embarked on a mission of deadly intent, the leader stalked in winding patterns of tightening circles forcing a constricting spiral upon his hope and life. Accepting his failure, he closed his eyes and could do nothing more than wait for the completion of his penance from so many years ago. He waited to feel the cold steel against his hope; a hope that would be completely engulfed by the wicked and angular blade brandished by the dark green skinned goblin.
What was taking the Goblin leader so long? Why was his penance being suspended these agonizingly long moments? Was it not enough to be the cause of all death and destruction in his personalized life? Did he need to be reminded of it over and endless amount of suspended seconds? Could he not be rid of his pitiful existence so he could no longer cause those whom he cared for more misery? Why was he yet allowed to draw breath if not for the collective debt he owed whatever it was he owed?
"Kill me!" he shouted as the mounting anticipation of his divinely inspired sentence peaked higher than any summit within the Dragon's Spine Mountains.
More so than the expectation of his death, the postponement of it worked to flood his heart with a sorrow and sadness. If left to continue, the sadness would have accomplished what the wicked blade had not yet done. But when he opened his eyes again, having been consumed by his own self grief and pity enough to close them to the exclusion of all else, he saw standing before him five figures entirely human in their appearance. His eyes met those of one covered in blood trails from the line of her raven hair to the nape of her neck. "You've been rescued, young one. You are safe."
Dra’utro (Scripture).
"Intellos, Intellos! Come quickly or you will miss it!"
He had been sitting quietly in his room reading one of the books his mother and father had purchased for him on their most recent trip into the market when he heard his older brother's voice interrupt his sacred silence. Books were rare, as were all forms of written communication. However, as rare as they were, he was fascinated with them from the very first time he encountered the written script. Even at his young age, he had been reading for several years. They just made sense to him, the letters, as they were systematically placed on the page to convey sounds. Those sounds, when strung together by a set of standardized rules produced words; and furthermore, when those words were extended into specific locations governed by a broader and more descriptive set of rules, they produced sentences, each containing a singular thought. But again, when those thoughts were attached by still another set of rules and expanded into complex explanations with various sub-thoughts, all used to build to a pinnacle of congruency, they conveyed knowledge. And knowledge is what wet the young boy's imagination.
"Intellos! Intellos!" his brother's voice continued in its inopportune interruption to his current reading, "Do you not want to see the sun set with us tonight?"
"Ictharon, why do I want to watch the sun set when I can read about its unbounded beauty in a book?" he retorted to his brother more out of obligation and habit that actual protest.
"Will you just come here, Intellos? Both Drahin and Drashin are waiting," wined his older brother.
"Fine, I will be there in just a moment. I have only a little more to finish on this page," he relented as he always did, but it seemed he should protest more on principle. However, the longer he protested, the longer it would be before he concluded this page. His brother was indeed relentless in his pursuit, and would, without a doubt, continue it well after the sun had set into the horizon if Intellos did not agree to join his family.
When he completed the last words, but after secreting a glance at the next page, he carefully put his book down with the page marked. He exited his room and joined his family on their sitting bench just outside of their house. It was not uncommon to see many families outside, all sitting in expectation of the sunset during this time of year. The transition from the warmer temperatures of summer and early autumn into the chill of late autumn and early winter, not only brought out the vast colors of the trees, but all the evermore so brilliant colors painted onto the canvas of the sky. He did not know the reason for this specific phenomenon, but he enjoyed its display nonetheless.
"You almost missed it, Telly," said his father as he lifted the young boy onto his lap, "But we are very glad you did not." His father was right. While the shades and amounts of the colors varied from evening to evening, the progression of those colors did not. Beginning with shades of oranges, they would slowly fade to bright reds and then blues as the sun more closely approached its cloud blanketed slumber. On this particular night, all three were clearly visible at the same time creating a visual extravaganza not commonly witnessed by the naked and mortal eye. This sight was almost enough to sustain the fading belief that there was a singular creator of the world. Had the great painter been able to sustain its beautiful painting, maybe then people would believe, but since there was no power great enough to suspend the sun for all to enjoy this beautiful sight, there must clearly be no single entity; for it there was, it would surely want all of its creation to enjoy such splendor. "And so sets the light," said his father as he did after every such family gathering.
"What does that mean, Drahin?" asked Intellos.
"It means the sun has set, Bronthis," interjected his brother, using the Orc word for brother, a term often used to suggest intellectual inferiority.
Giving the older brother a very sour gaze, his mother spoke up, "Ictharon, we did not name you after your Drahin's Drahin with the expectation you would address your brother in that manner. In fact, that is a very good question and this is perhaps a great time for your Drahin to explain it."
"Perhaps another time," stated his father, "Both of the young ones seem tired and irritable. Tonight may not be a good night for explanations." His father allowed the statement to hang suspended in the moment just like the sun.
"I am sorry, Intellos," said his older brother who had received the intent behind their father's expression.
"Drahin, can you please explain it to us?" Intellos asked with growing expectation in his voice for yet another feast of knowledge upon which his young and curious mind might feed.
"As long as you two promise to get to bed right after."
"We will! I promise!" answered the younger of the two without hesitation.
His mother interjected, "That means you cannot read in your bed because the candles will need to be extinguished."
In a moment of uncertainty, the young, would be wizard was caught, and he was not sure he enjoyed it. In order to listen to his father's story, which held great but uncertain potential, he had to sacrifice what he knew was certain; his book. Lost in the decision, it was the voice of his older and sometimes antagonistic brother who brought clarity to this moment's reality, "Intellos, you can just read it tomorrow morning."
As if a candle was lit providing light by which to see the obvious decision, the younger brother smiled broadly and said, “Oh yes. You are right. I can just read it tomorrow morning. Yes, we both promise to go straight to sleep."
As the brothers nestled in to their parents laps, the older held by the mother, and the younger by their father, he began his explanation, "It is not an altogether easy or simple question to answer. Many years ago, while the manner is often times debated, the world was created. There are those who argue that day and night and hence, the sun and the moons were created as a reflection of that which is both good and evil in men. After the sun and moons were brought into existence, then came man. Not just us, but all the races of Avendia. However, it did not take them long to discover that, regardless of the purpose for the sun and moons, they were able to choose to be either good or evil. And they even were even able to choose to be both depending on their situation,"
As their father pa
used for breath, Ictharon spoke up, "What do you mean?"
"Do you believe someone who is good will always do good?" their father asked him.
"Yes, that is because they are good," answered Ictharon.
"Does that mean someone who does evil will always do evil?" he asked again.
"Yes, I think so," Ictharon said, slowly considering his father's second question.
"Do you remember the time you helped your brother with his chores last week so you could both have more time to play? Was that good?" asked their father.
"I think it was and so did Telly!" said the older of the two brothers with a broad grin.
"Well, do you remember when you called him 'Bronthis' just moments ago? Do you think that was good?" Ictharon's excitement at learning this lesson faded as the grin vanished on his face and his head turned downcast when he heard his father's question. He remained quiet and did not answer, hoping his father would continue, which he did. "What I mean is this: sometimes we can be good and do good, and sometimes we can be evil and do evil. It is said that the sun and moons were created to reflect both the light and darkness inside all men in an effort for us to continually be reminded that it is not just the sun which can set, but goodness in the hearts of us all. I say that phrase to remind myself that I must be vigilant and always on guard so I do not do evil things."
After a moment's pause, it was Intellos who spoke up next, "Drahin, do you think I am evil?"
"Of course not, Telly. No man is either good or evil inside themselves. We are only the products of what we do with our lives," his father said.
"Well, how do I know if I am good or evil?"
"That is another great question, my little inquisitive Eklirin, but one we do not have the time to answer tonight. I suppose of the greatest minds of Avendia have not even figured that out yet. We might not either, at least, not before the sun can be seen rising again. Now, off to your bedroom, both of you."
Lying in his bed listening to the subtle snores of his older brother create a rhythmical lullaby, Intellos would soon fall victim to the singular, undeniable constraint of his young mind, that of sleep. However, his eyes would not restfully close before his thoughts wandered to this concept of good and evil as it influenced his concept of knowledge. For being as young as he was, he had certainly read many books from the children's tales of dragons to a discussion about birds and trees and everything between. He was fascinated with the ability to know about things of the world that he could easily observe, but tonight was the first time he had been poised a question regarding the knowledge of self. Was he good or evil? He did not know. He certainly knew what he hoped he was, but for certain he could not say.
Such was the force behind the Dragon King that it segmentally destroyed all forms of knowledge and propelled the wizard into the very recesses of his subconscious mind propagating a resounding understanding of the very simple question of his youth. Was he good or evil? As a grown man, if he could still be considered such after hundreds of years yet still alive, he had accumulated an impressive if not unmatched mass of knowledge regarding the conditions of mortal existence; however, not even the very depths of it could answer, with certainty, if he was yet good or evil. It was not until he stood within the presence of Lacorion, The Great Dragon King that the answer was fulfilled. In the presence of such greatness, how could he even assume the arrogance necessary to call himself good?
As if the visual brilliance was not enough to fuse this revelation together with the center of his identity, the vocalization of this awesome presence, overwhelmingly beautiful, vibrated with the force of all thunderstorms gathered throughout all times into a singular yet dynamically multifaceted sound leaving nothing to question regarding its potency or perfection. After he had spent endless hours poring over endless volumes of information spanning almost every known topic, and some that were unknown to all but him, his longest knowledge based quest was finally answered without a single word being read or uttered. He was not good because he could not be good.
Yet in this defining presence, he felt no hopelessness from the understanding of his own inadequacy. It was a truth when compared to this essence of pure Good, he could not call himself such; but radiating just as soundly as all of his imperfections, was the innate conveyance of hope; a hope that he could be more, a hope that he was more. A lifetime spent in the futility of endeavoring to unbalance the scales of self-evaluation through reflection upon our subjective deeds as good or evil had grown him tired to the point where he ended his pursuit of goodness. He saw himself, even with his acquisition of status extending far beyond that of the normal man, as inadequate because of the simple truth that he could always do more good. And because he could always do more, he could never do enough to say, with utmost surety, that he was good. But standing before the immense Golden Dragon, he understood that his efforts at doing good would never outweigh his desire to be good. This was because there was never an objective source for the defining aspects of goodness and hope; never until now.
When The Dragon King spoke, Intellos heard two sets of sounds reflecting language, one known and the other unknown. If the wizard was resolved to listen with just the physical sense of hearing, he would never have understood the Dragon's unknown tongue. But deep within him, he felt the vibrational resonance of the divine words as they shattered every ounce of his limited soul. He heard his native language as vividly as if it were whispered inches from his ears.
"Nok dua infero, Mojis unith. Dra'dua ako."
(Do not fear Young Wizard. I am here)
"What must I do?"
"Ako dua Dra'nes."
(You must be in The Light)
Standing in the presence of a divinity he could deny no longer, he fell to his knees from the weight of what he was being shown. Inside the totality of history, he saw, opened to him as a raw and bleeding wound, the failings of all of humanity to produce the only thing they were tasked to produce leaving a profound sadness within the Great Dragon King. He saw the original state of the realm, perfect and intentionally created to be enjoyed by those it was created for. He saw the entire, overwhelming splendor of a garden, land, and world so pure and truthful he was bordering on unbelief, and would have succumbed to doubt had he not been propelled directly into faith by the Golden vision reflecting the perfection of that which was created. He saw all races gathered in a grand exposition of community and agreement. He saw history and creation for what it was supposed to be, void of strife and containing all the love and wisdom of a singular people gathered in the hope of praise.
Then his vision shifted into his life. He saw himself gathered there, with all the vast and endless races the world had borne from the very heart of God, existing as a combination of all of his ages. He was at once, young and old, finite and infinite, living and dying, doing and being. He felt the massive weight of being separated from the singular reason of his existence and saw, cascading like a molten goo of pain and agony, sadness and horror, deceit and hopelessness all coalesce into a viscous sludge slowly and methodically covering the grand gathering. This eternal and terrible black maw was enveloping everything in this perfect existence; but it did not destroy it, rather it left it warped and twisted, shapeless and void of any resemblance to a planned design. Radiating from the viscous goo was everything that stood opposed to the condition of the previously perfect creation.
Again a shift, but his location of being submerged inside the viscous sludge did not change, rather he was granted a site piercing straight into the emotions of the divine Dragon standing before him. He felt, crushing him to a river of tears, the endless extent of sorrow and sadness as a void now stood between the divine and the mortal that was never meant to be. But more personally, he felt an utter grief pour over him as if the Dragon King had known the young wizard his entire life but was denied the only thing it sought, a relationship. Everything that had once been created as the perfect support and sustenance for him had been tarnished beyond recognition by the
very subjects it was created for, and still, from this divine Godly heart, flowed only love.
He felt a love so deep that in the next vision, he was shown a hope to again create the dimensions of truth and life missing from the world. Rising behind the black and bleak sludge, strode a single man, radiant in His own splendor. He strode with purpose, he strode with faith, and he strode with intent. Growing in size to allow him to outdistance the maw of black liquid, he stepped over it and was unaffected by its gripping nature. It neither stuck to his feet nor slowed his progression. When he was beyond its reach over the land, this man turned around; but instead of causing it to recede, as the wizard, in his limited understanding expected, he spread his arms, bent his head, and allowed the terrible condition consuming the land to overtake him. Standing impossibly tall, He stood, motionless, with his arms spread wide and allowed the sludge to touch his feet. Slowly and expectantly, it traced his legs and thighs, massing itself around him in a mound of glee and victory.
Intellos wanted to shout, to help, to do something to save this man, but nothing he could do would change the inevitability of his death. So he watched, and cried, and screamed the silent and torturous screams as the sludge consumed the entirety of this man. He looked around to see what the others who were gathered with him were doing, and as he did so, he noticed that because the sludge had to draw itself into a single mountain to totally consume the man standing in its way, it had inadvertently receded from covering the land. In its wake was left a redeemed condition fused stronger to the divine presence of humble relationship. Its people were no longer clothed in cloths and fabrics, but were instead clothed in the great golden splendor of the Creator Himself. Their voices rose as a chorus lead by angels as their hearts joined into the cemented focus upon the perfection of their own hearts. Their initial condition was left fully restored as redemption flowed from each. The power emanating from God himself was placed securely inside the temple created in their souls. For they now contained all the splendor of that which was created for them. They contained all glory because they had become all glory in the moment their fault had been carried by another who was yet blameless.
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 46