Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1)

by Roberto Vecchi

  "I apologize if I seem ungrateful, but I do not know who your husband is, nor do I know where I am," she stated.

  "You are certainly fortunate that he discovered you when he did. He was able to bring you back here and call upon the physician in enough time to save both you and your child," the woman said, avoiding a direct answer to her question.

  "Both of you have my gratitude. I do not know what I would have done had my child been injured, or worse yet," she let the thought trail off as an unspeakable option.

  "But, my dear, all is well with you and your child," said the lady with a broad and warm smile in contrast to her previously stoic quality. Just then, they both heard footfalls coming from the hallway leading to the bedchamber. "I believe my husband has returned from his quick errand. I am sure he is anxious to check on your condition as I am also sure you are anxious to meet your guardian angel."

  As she looked toward the corridor, the tall woman spoke introducing her husband, "May I humbly present, my husband, Matteous Morvin Isthin."

  She instinctively straightened her clothes and straightened her posture to be presentable to her current benefactor. She did not know whom or what to expect, but she was shocked into speechlessness when the wealthy merchant whom she had been speaking with while he was visiting her at The Dragon's Lair slowly walked through the door.

  So much had changed between that memory and her current travels in the light rain of the forest road. Just as that moment had forever changed her life, so too would the impending confrontation with the Elf Queen and the Princess alter her course. She placed all the possible outcomes on a metaphorical scale, yet nothing tipped in a direction revealing a certainty for her future. She had traveled so many miles, learned so many things and had been forever changed from a young and impressionable woman into the piece of hardened stone sitting upon her horse. And though Matteous may have been the final catalyst to propel her into action, Eriboth remained the cause nonetheless. For as horrible as Matteous was, he was at least there, whereas Eriboth was not.

  It was not long after formally being introduced to the wealthy merchant that she saw his marriage dissolved. His wife had accused him of infidelity and left to live with her rather wealthy uncle in the hills outside of the city limits taking their three children with her. This left Matteous with more time to spend pursuing Athlorial at The Dragon's Lair, and because of the declining business resulting from the verdict of the magistrate; she had more and more time to devote to him. As weeks turned into months and her belly began to show more and more, so too did the true loyalty of her guests, whose patronage was becoming more and more infrequent. Just weeks before Athlorial would give birth to her child, Nadalize was forced to close the doors of her life long mission and dream. The fall had been so rapid, so quick, and so emphatic that everyone associated with the tavern was stunned and left wondering what had happened. Having no one else to turn to, Athlorial found herself standing at the entrance to Matteous's estate dripping wet from the rain and very, very pregnant.

  As one would expect from a broken man from a broken family, he needed to cling to something, anything to give him hope and purpose. And in this moment, that hope was centered around the purpose of saving Athlorial and her child from the life she was sure to experience now that The Dragon's Lair had been forced to close. The subsequent engagement was horribly quick as they both agreed they did not want her child to be born without a formal home. The wedding was small with only the closest of friends in attendance, and for her that meant Nadalize. Three weeks later, the child was born, and everything changed.

  Matteous became increasingly verbally abusive toward her anytime she spent what he considered an excessive amount of time tending to her newborn son. On several occasions, while she was yet healing from a very difficult childbirth, he raised his hand to strike her, but pulled back before his actions ended in physical contact. The tender and empathetic man she had come to enjoy and respect was dissolving away quickly leaving her wondering if she had embarked upon the same path her mother had; however, she justified his behavior as acceptable because, after all, he had saved her and her son from a hard life on the street. And because of his generosity, he did deserve an extension of her grace and silent acceptance. He was probably having a difficult time adjusting to life without his children and the addition of one that was not his by blood. Yes, when the smoke settled from the shock of a newborn as well as from the fate of The Dragon's Lair, she was sure he would return to the Matteous she had grown to respect.

  As the weeks beyond her child birth became months and she had healed enough for physical intimacy, she approached Matteous, though his mean and distrustful manner had grown instead of temper. She thought that perhaps it was their lack of physical closeness that plagued his demeanor; however, that night she would be quick to learn she was mistaken. What she had believed would be a moment of connection for them, acting as a catalyst for him to return to the man she knew, had entirely the opposite effect. She felt isolated and alone, even with him inside her. So rough and demanding was he during their first night together, that she became aware he would never again be who he led her to believe he was. And she began to see him for what he had become, or perhaps what he had always been. He was mean. There was no tenderness, no love, and no passion to be connected with someone he had professed to love. She was left with only one thing upon his completion - emptiness.

  Life continued in this pattern, and as it did so, she would lose all hope. In the first year, while it still remained hopeful, even though her husband provided none of it for her, she would dream about the day Eriboth would return. Matteous would often catch her looking out of the window, lost in thought, as she was tending to her son. He would always accuse her of thinking of him. Though he was never wrong regarding where her thoughts had settled, she never allowed him to know the truth. No matter how much she assured him that they were with the future reflecting the growth of her present, he would never relent in his accusations. As her child grew this first year, learning to do many things on his own, he would remain small for his age. The physician had come regularly to check on the baby and indicated that while he was healthy, he would always be small. A condition of having a small heart the physician said.

  A small heart. She dwelt upon those words as the light rain lingered upon the road causing her progress toward Meckthenial and the awful confrontation she was about to have to slow. She wished nothing more than to be done with this journey. The rain had forced a delay which was now causing her to relive much of the time she had believed she had left behind. But today of all days, with her dead king on the back of her horse, after having killed the only man she had ever loved and still did, all things were conspiring to funnel her thoughts toward a shame and guilt she had buried behind the walls of the skills she had learned and the blood she had spilled. Why now was she not given peace from it all? Why now were the gods collecting their retribution for doing what was necessary? Why now was she remembering the day she left her son? What possible purpose could this have except to allow her eyes to burn from crying beyond her capacity to produce tears yet again? When would it finally be done? When would she be allowed peace? But no matter how many different ways she silently asked the same question no answer came, only memory. She remembered the rain, much like it was now, lightly falling upon her face and hiding her tears. So many years ago, yet she still remembered pounding on Nadalize's door in the dead of night and could all but feel the bruise it caused upon her hand. Freely and unhindered she remembered the day she broke, and she broke again.

  "Please, Nada! Please, let me in!" she frantically said as she continued to thump her hand upon the wooden door. "It is Athlorial! Please, I need your help!"

  Hurriedly, the once tavern owner and new grandmother fulfilled the young woman's request allowing Athlorial to rush past her and enter. "What is wrong, My Dear? Did he hurt you? Did he hurt your son?"

  Wearing a very wet, black cloak with its hood concealing her face,
Athlorial turned quickly, "Nada, please help me! I did not know what to do! I did not know what I was doing!"

  "Child, Eklirin, slow down and tell me what happened," Nadalize replied as she put her hands upon Athlorial’s shoulders seeking to draw her in hoping a warm embrace would help calm the frantic woman.

  "He was so mean! I did not know what to do! And when he reached for Torrick," she let the end of that statement trail off as her eyes drifted to an unknown place.

  "Is Torrick hurt? Did he hurt your son?"

  Startled back to the room she was standing in with Nadalize as if she had forgotten where she was, with a gravely distant voice, she answered the older woman's question with surprising calmness, "No, he did not."

  "Did he hurt you?"

  "No, Nada, he did not."

  "Then what happened to cause you to run here in the dead of night while it is raining?"

  "I killed him."

  Over the next hour, Athlorial told Nadalize the truth of the last three years being married to Matteous. She left no detail out. She even told her mother about the last several months when he had begun using her to help conduct business by forcing her to entertain his hopeful partners, some of whom were more than verbally abusive. When she was questioned by Nadalize about not leaving him, she said that as long as her son was being provided for, she would be able to endure anything. But tonight was different. Tonight was a particularly rough night spent with Matteous, and after he had finished, he told her of his plans to raise Torrick to follow him in his textile business. The thought of her son, beautiful and innocent, being turned into a monster like Matteous was all she needed to hear to release her very primal and protectively determined mother’s anger.

  After he would take her, his sleep was always sound while hers was always absent. So she waited for his breathing to equalize and slow. When she was sure he was asleep, she eased herself out their bed and walked into his study. Searching his desk for where she knew he kept a small dagger, she was surprised when she heard a voice from behind her, his voice.

  "Looking for this?" he said as he held his dagger in the air.

  Fear gripped her and she turned abruptly, "No My Lord, I was just getting your papers ready for you in the morning."

  "Did you honestly believe you would find my dagger there?" he asked as he fondly tossed it from hand to hand.

  "My Lord, I do not know what you speak of. I was simply trying to get your papers ready for you in the morning."

  "Very well, perhaps young Torrick would like to feel its edge?" he said as he turned toward the little boy's bedchamber.

  Athlorial erupted. Somewhere from within, a firestorm of primal and protective instinct was instantly awakened. She charged Matteous. He turned just in time to catch the blazing blonde haired woman, but not in time to stop her from colliding with his exposed mid-section. She hit him hard enough to jostle the breath from his lungs, and to send him on a collision course with the wall, but not enough to remove him from his footing. He lashed out with his left hand, and lucky for Athlorial, it was not the one bearing the dagger. But his clenched fist found its mark squarely hitting her shoulder. His defensive blow struck her hard enough to send her reeling, ending up against the wall on the ground. He turned, having gained his breath again, and continued upon his path to Torrick, an ill intent upon his steps.

  She stood up slowly and charged again, but this time the wealthy merchant did not turn in time to see her. As she hit his back with the full weight of her small body, driven by the need to protect her son, they were both sent sprawling. As they collectively toppled, she was fortunate enough to land on him, allowing her injuries to be minimized. Nevertheless, they both landed in a heap and were stunned. Her consciousness gained clarity a single moment before his, thus providing her the opportunity to locate and reach for the dagger. She grabbed it in enough time to turn on to her back and see Matteous bearing down upon her slight frame. As he landed on her, she plunged the dagger into the side of his neck ending the confrontation. In a daze, she scooted out from under the dead Matteous, and ran for her son.

  "Child, what have you done?" asked the woman after Athlorial grew quiet following the final sentence of her night's story.

  "I had to, Drashin. He was going to hurt Torrick. He was going to turn Torrick into him."

  "I can help you hide for a short while, but the authorities will eventually come here," said Nadalize as she peered out of her window.

  "I know, Nada. That's why I must ask a favor of you," but before she could finish her statement, she was interrupted.

  "Before we worry about that, you need rest, and so does your young son. You and he will be safe here for the time being. Tomorrow is Sunday and I daresay no one will be looking for your husband to do any business. But we need to have a plan for Monday, because on Monday, the authorities will have begun their inquisition," said Nadalize.

  The older woman attempted to take Torrick from her, but Athlorial insisted he sleep by her side tonight. As the two rested next to each other, the small boy awake and kept warm by the protection of his mother, and the young mother awake and kept warm by the thoughts of her young son, Athlorial quietly sang his favorite nursery rhyme. Instantly, the boy smiled as he became enthralled by his mother's voice which carried with it all the love in the world. Such a small thing a song could be, but when sung with the intent of love, what a mountain it could become.

  Tonight, though she sung of Dragons and Wizards, and the Legend of Eriboth, her words carried with it a grief that no mother should have to face. She watched as the fight within her young Torrick, the only connection she had with the man she loved but lost, fought as hard as he could to stay awake and hear the ending of the simple rhyme. And though he fought well beyond the size of his small heart, he lost to the love his mother possessed. For nothing could withstand the love of a mother when set against the well-being of her child. Not even the mother's own selfish desire to remain. She knew that for her son to grow well and strong, for him to live the life she dreamed he have, she would have to leave. As the young boy fell asleep, the young mother's voice faded into the silent sobs only a broken mother was capable of crying. Her tears, however, did not fall alone. Though silent and hidden, they were being echoed by a second mother, one who was standing outside of the bedchamber door. For Athlorial was not the only one who would soon part with her child.

  Nadalize. She had not seen her mother in over twenty years, but the longing to be held by her was palpable now. The rain had subsided as had her tears, but the travel was still slowed because of the residual water draining from the higher lands. She gathered herself from her memories and looked around, taking time to deeply inhale and exhale as she had been taught. She felt her center return and her faculties sharpen. And she would need them soon as she heard the clarity of the Noble Horns blare in the background signaling the outposts had spotted the king. No doubt she would be met by an envoy as the whole Elven Kingdom was holding its collective breath while awaiting the return of The King with Eriboth the Traitor in shackles. Would they believe her retelling of the events? Or would they call into question her motives after seeing her and Eriboth together in last evening's festivities?

  Yet again she was placed at the mercy of events caused by him. Had he simply returned to her years ago, she would never have met Matteous, and if she had, she certainly would have been married to Eriboth and been spared the horrible three years she spent with the awful merchant. Furthermore, she would have been spared the need to leave and give charge of her son's care to Nadalize. Her son. She knew nothing of what had become of him, though she was able to function by believing he was well and healthy. Nadalize would have seen to his needs and done everything in her power to promote his well-being. And though she trusted Nada completely, there was still the uncertainty naturally present within the heart of a mother whose eyes had not gazed upon proof for herself.

  She was surprised that an armed escort had not been provided her as she cross
ed the outer gates. From what she had been told about the Elves, she gathered they would have sent a full garrison of at least thirty men on horses. Her suspicion continued to grow as she approached the Starlit Castle and was still not met by an escort of The King's Red Guard, the guard she had been charged to lead. Even odder was the stillness of the main streets approaching the Great Castle. This time of the day should see the streets filled with many elves practicing their Star Rituals, but they yet remained barren.

  She bid Ninidras to climb the central marble stairs to the main gate hoping they would open as their size was immense and only the strongest of mortals would be able to gain entrance on their own. When she had finished her climb, still on horseback, and approached the great gates, to her gratitude, they did begin to open. However, its progress was slow and she was forced to quell thoughts of doubt as she patiently awaited her fate within. Over her life, seemingly at every turn, there was uncertainty. And though she would try to grasp any amount of it she could find, even self-constructed, she found it to be only a temporary stability. However, in this moment, with dead king bound to the back side of her horse and at the mercy of a people she knew nothing about and who knew nothing about her, she was certain of one and only one cemented reality. She was glad to be rid of Eriboth.

  Secrekil (Assassin).

  Red. Growing in intensity, my eyes began to hurt from the penetrating, bright red light. Why were my eyes closed? Was I waking up from a sound night of sleep? But why had I not woken before the dawn to accomplish my morning duties? I did not remember going to sleep in my bed last night. Throbbing. At the moment my eyes began to creek open allowing the light to illuminate my sensitive lenses, a throbbing ache thudded against my mind with the force of a panic driven stampede of a thousand elephants. Each awful pulse followed by one that impossibly seemed deeper than its predecessor, was centered at the back of my skull and radiated forward until it reached directly behind my eyes. Before they could fully open, and in large part because of the pain, I was forced to shut them tightly and instinctively reach a hand to inspect what seemed to be the originating spot of my current misery.