Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1)

by Roberto Vecchi

  Was the Queen alive? She did not know which is to say she had not seen for herself; however, she had been on the opposite side of massacres of this magnitude and knew well the chances of her survival. It would have been different of their attackers had been mortal because their motives would have been mortally influenced. And while the killing of a Monarch was romanticized in legends and myths, it was entirely impractical to reality. Royalty was always, always captured. Long has it been known that the value of a royal figure was ever so much more valuable when allowed to live as a bargaining piece. But these beings of flame were not mortal allowing the assumption that their endeavors ended without any familiarity of mortality and its perceived values.

  No, she was quite certain the Queen would be dead leaving House Dordrosis searching for its next heir. But since the Queen was without child, the helm of the Elves would pass to the other relations to the former King Rendunial. But there was only one , at least until a few weeks ago. But she ended that possibility when she killed him, or rather, exacted the judgement required by the Stars for the heinous nature of his crimes. As such, House Dordrosis would see its age old and storied reign as ruling house of the Elves come to an infamous end. An end she had played a major role in securing; albeit an indirect role, but a role nonetheless.

  She rode almost to dawn, but decided to stop and rest briefly when she notice the involuntary nodding of her head and increasing heaviness of her eyes. The rush of battle had passed hours ago, and she began to acknowledge her settling fatigue, a fatigue that not even the dawning sun, with all its radiance could thwart. She dismounted fluidly and noticed a pain to the right side of her face. She reached up to feel it, not remembering any injury, and touched a distinctly crusty scratch she must have received while riding away.

  It was not in her nature to flee. And had there been any observable opportunity for victory whatsoever, she would have fought for that possibility until breath was vacant from her lungs because of exertion or death; but there was no such possibility against entities who were unaffected by even the great magic of the elves. Though she did feel guilt, she made a conscious effort to push it beneath her need to survive by remembering a lesson during her time with the Order of Chaos that had saved her life on more than one occasion.

  In one of her infantry lessons, while her company was being attacked by mounted cavalry in a simulated ambush, she had ordered her men to battle to the death, believing that her skills and knowledge of small company maneuvers would be sufficient for hers to triumph. She herself had numerous red painted stains on her armor signifying how many times they had repeated the exercise and how many times she, and all of her men, had been killed in their simulation. She had been told on a few occasions that this particular exercise was impossible to win in the traditional sense, but her pride and belief in herself and her skills prompted her to see only one potential victory; that which was defined by the normal circumstances surrounding a victorious battle. Their simulation continued for hours into the night and no matter what textbook tactics she employed, the cavalry was always correctly anticipating her plans.

  After a near coup, the leader of the cavalry stepped in, a man named Shindi. He ordered his mounted horsemen to break up the scuffle and to gather the infantry. He dismounted and walked directly to where Soliana stood. "While your courageous tactics, so employed, would certainly draw the attention of the great bards of legend and give them ample material for what would certainly be great songs and lyrics, I am afraid they would all speak of a sad lamentation and the great failing of the blazing haired beauty who repeatedly could not learn." He paused and pierced her heart with his next words, "They are all dead. Their children have also died, as have any of their hopes to live life. Never forget this is why you are being instructed. This is why you are learning, and this is why we drive you to excellence: because there is no greater glory found at the tip of the sword above the glorious radiance within a child's eyes who is allowed to hug her Drahin or Drashin again. The perseverance of life, in all of its forms, is the greatest and purest endeavor of battle. As such, you should always seek it first. Do you understand the lesson you have learned?"

  "Yes, Lord Shindi. I have," she replied meekly, but firmly.

  "Then what will you do differently so equipped with this knowledge?"

  "I will take the opening the cavalry provided and use it to preserve the lives of my men and flee, instead of launching a counter attack."

  "The greatest courage is found in releasing one's pride. Only then can you free yourselves and ensure your great courage can be utilized in a more advantageous situation."

  On that day, she learned the difference between courage and pride, persistence and resistance, confidence and arrogance. As she brushed Ninidras, her great stallion, jet black in its color with muscles rippling even while standing at rest, she was forced to consider her options. Yes, on a technicality, she was still employed by House Dordrosis, and would be so until it was proven that another Great House stood as the rightful claim for the vacated crown. And to sustain the possibility for her continued service to the new King or Queen, which ever it would be, she would have to demonstrate a dedication beyond a single house. She would need to convince those making the decisions of her infallible loyalty to the Elves. But because she did not have a developed history with them whereby they could evaluate the substance of her character, she would have to convince them on her deed based merit. But beside her triumph in the Late King's tournament and her execution of Eriboth, which drew its share of controversy, she had no great deeds upon which her case could be built.

  She considered, albeit briefly, to return to the Order and take up her instructor's position again, but in spite of Psumayn's open invitation, she felt her time there had run its course to completion. Besides, she had felt something growing inside of her to embark upon something that was solely defined by her choices and her causes. For the entirety of her life, she had been positioned as a consequence of her various circumstances to take up voice and action for causes imposed upon her by others. But long has she desired to find that which defined her and only her. To act on behalf of herself and only herself, taking up arms against this or for that as a consequence of her own identity seemed like a taunting plume of golden mist. She was able to see it glittering in front of her, but was unable to grasp it. And there was the problem. She had spent so much of her life defined by others, she had no definition of herself when not bound by the ties of their lives.

  She knew her time with the elves was limited regardless of her continuance in their service, but bound by the contract as she was, she must finish what she had begun. She would travel back to the sight where brimstone coalesced to take demonic form, find some sort of solid evidence regarding the fate of Queen Glinovia. And then she would make the trek back to Meckthenial to face the council once again.

  She woke with a jolt as her stallion nudged her briskly. Though in her care for only a short time, the bond she and Ninidras shared extended beyond that of animal and mortal. She could not explain how, but they could seemingly sense each other on a level beyond physical cues. And Ninidras must have been sensing her time in sleep had extended passed her intent.

  She had been dreaming of flames, those defining her life, but unlike her dreams previously, they were not directed toward her. They were directed at her son. In her dream, he was a grown man and although she did not recognize him has her son by any physical familiarity, somehow within her dream, she knew this man was her son. He stood tall, very tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders. His face was fine and sharp, as were his eyes. Deep green, they seemed to peer directly into her heart. She saw him standing in a field of green grass, multi-colored flowers, all set against a blue sky. But his peaceful surroundings started to blur and fade. As they continued to shrink around him, they also began to darken, leaving all colors vacant except for his green eyes against a background of burning red flames. Right before she was awoken, his stature seemed to start shrinki
ng and blur, just as his surroundings had moments ago.

  She rose and drank three gulps of water quickly, judging she had slept about half an hour longer than she had intended. Mounting her stallion, she patted his strong neck, silently thanking him for his company, "You always seem to know. Thank you my friend." She and her great stallion assumed a brisk pace, but one that both of them had no difficulty maintaining for the duration of their return journey. So wild was their riding the night before, that she was not completely sure how far or what direction they had traveled. She judged by the position of the sun, the general direction and estimated based on their speed last night, the general distance, but the reality of details was often distorted when immersed in desperate conditions. But that is precisely when her focus was at its highest. Good thing that, because without her elevated concentration from the night before, it might have taken her another several hours to find their encampment.

  That is, if it had not been for the smoke and the awful stench of burnt skin. When a single house was ablaze, it is said its smoke could be seen for over a mile away, and when a small town has been raised, perhaps as far as four miles. But when the entirety of half of the strength of the Elven army was burned, it was visible for what she estimated as near thirty miles. A great stream of black smoke could be seen in the distance. She knew what it was immediately and, redirecting her course, she sped toward it. When she was within perhaps five miles she began to smell the destruction and death. Its order was not entirely unfamiliar as it carried with it the distinct aroma of charred flesh and leather.

  As she approached, she dismounted, instructed her mount to remain, and continued the rest of the way, perhaps a mile, on foot. She was skilled at walking silently and employed all of this skill because she did not know what had happened to the flaming monsters. Focus. Task. Complete. She had to stay tied to her current endeavor of finding evidence of the Queen, although she was as sure as she could be, without seeing for herself, that Queen Glinovia's fate would be that of her soldiers.

  Bodies, thousands of them were sprawled across the encampment, all of which were charred beyond recognition. The metal portions of the fallen soldiers’ armor were melted and the leather was burnt to a dark black. Many of the bodies were still smoldering, some of which had areas of wetness next to them, no doubt the remnants of the futile attempts to extinguish the flames. What form of fire could melt metal in such a short amount of time? Even the great forges of the Dwarves required time and special materials to do what these creatures had done in only moments. The only evidence their attackers had left were singed areas of grass, presumably where they had stepped. But unlike all creatures with weight, there were no visible imprints. These monsters, or demons, or whatever they were, left no tracks in the traditional sense.

  Mimicking the carnage of the bodies was the destruction of the tents. The fabric had been consumed, as had the ropes used to tie them down. The only remaining portions were the metal steaks, and most of them were melted into pools, now hardened into discs of metal. She made her way to the center of the encampment, hoping the Queen's tent had escaped the destruction, but its fate had been the same as the others. The destruction was total. The army was gone.

  Looking around, she saw a small plume of black smoke in the distance, back toward the direction they had originally marched. She estimated it to be at least a couple of miles away, an easy jog. She considered making the journey on horseback, but she did not think it would save her any time, which is always of essence. At the edge of the encampment in the direction of the smoke, she found several horse tracks leading in the same direction. She also saw more small areas of singed grass mingled with the horse tracks. There had been a chase. But none of the soldiers would have fled except under one condition, to see Queen Glinovia to safety.

  Instantly her pace quickened reflecting her elevated hope. She came across several burnt carcasses, both Elf and horse. Judging by the size of the burnt horses, they belonged to the Royal Guard, for only they rode the specific breed of war horse standing two hands taller than the other horses of the cavalry. Farther in her pursuit, she found the source of the smoke. Apparently the guards had formed a circle in a final attempt to stand their ground. Twelve charred bodies were loosely arranged in a circle, clearly defensive, but there was no evidence of that which they were defending. If the Queen was struck down with her soldiers, there would be thirteen bodies, but there were only twelve. Either the Queen was yet still alive, or she had been taken.

  Soliana found a single set of tracks leading toward the circle from a direction to the west. Their imprint was clearly elvish, but if that were true, then what was at their end? She followed them to the edge of the forest. They were difficult, but not impossible to follow. Elves were known for their ability to cover their tracks, yet these were not. This elf was clearly preoccupied enough to abandon the need for covering where he came from. She followed them to a large fallen log and saw them lead off in the direction of the encampment, but unlike the tracks she followed to the log, these were not alone. There was another set. Small and fainter, it told of a second traveler, lighter and smaller, unencumbered by the heavy armors of battle.

  "Queen Glinovia?" Soliana said quietly.

  "Thank the Stars above in all their splendor!" answered the Queen from within the rotted out log.

  Sticking her head in the opening, she saw the small form of the Queen stuffed inside, with barely enough room. "My Queen, are you without injury?"

  "Indeed I am, although there is a wound to my pride regarding my current surroundings. Can you assist me, Soliana? I am stuck," said the Queen, with resignation in her voice.

  Soliana, already on her knees, reached in, and after a moment or two of struggle and investigation into the cause of her bound confinement within the log, she was able to remove the Queen's ornamental belt, which allowed her to slip out with only slight effort. "Queen Glinovia, I feared you dead. How did you escape?"

  "I am not quite sure myself. When the flames grew, the wizards, perhaps because of their attunement to magic, reacted quickly. There knew something was wrong, and it would not be good. Chief Wizard Thindrinas ordered my personal guard to escort me, with all haste, back to Meckthenial. I will not soon forget the severity in his voice. But the soldiers protested, that is, until they saw the flames walk. We have the swiftest horses in Avendia, yet even they could not outdistance the flames. When it was apparent they would overrun us, Commander Asuin escorted me away when we were out of sight. He stuffed me in that log, and I presume, rejoined the others. Beyond that, I do not know. Tell me, what of the army? How many remain capable to fight?"

  Soliana had never been good at delivering news of an ill-timed nature, and now that half of the elven army had been decimated at the precise time when its strength needed to be intact, she found the fortitude to speak only one word, "None."

  "None? You cannot be correct?"

  "My Queen, I examined the encampment for myself. There were no signs of survivors, except for you."

  "Surely the wizards, the most powerful force in the land, were able to survive?"

  "I am sorry, My Queen, but I surveyed their tents and counted all fifteen bodies."

  Visibly shaken, the queen shrank in her aspect, feeling the full weight of the crown she wore. "How can this be? We brought the better portion of our significant battle strength to aid our alliances. How could our force have been defeated in such a short amount of time and with such singular severity?"

  "I do not know, My Queen. But I do know this: You and I have been spared, for whatever reason, by the Stars under which you worship. This was done for a purpose, although I know not what it is. In truth, I have never been a woman of faith, but now I have to believe we survived for a greater cause than chance itself," Soliana said as she put both of her hands on the Queen's respective shoulders.

  Drawing strength for the surety with which her General spoke, the queen answered, "Yes. Of course you are right, my dear. The Stars
have decided our fates already, we need only walk them. Thank you, Soliana, for reminding me of the faith that carried me through my Drahin's death. Your loyalty will be remembered and rewarded."

  "The only reward that I seek has already been secured, for you are yet alive. Now, My Queen, what is it we will do?"

  "Pray. Pray and ride for Meckthenial."

  Dilengen (Convergence).

  Rumors of her brother, in spite of Borinth's attempts to prevent them, began to spread throughout their company and to the small lands beyond. Had there been only he and Dianali present for their last battle, they may have reached only the mouths of their fellow mercenaries; however, Du'tothin's loyalties were placed in very different places, and he had clearly divulged his observance to those loyalties. Borinth and his band of mercenaries had remained in the city for an extra week to allow for adequate time to both provision their supplies, as well as their bodies. He and Dianali had sustained injuries that required attention. Their care was assisted by Du'tothin who quickly had the local healers halt their other less critical efforts and immediately see to the care of Borinth and Dianali, quite under their protest.

  During their week of preparation and healing, Zyndalia saw her brother become even more withdrawn than he was after the events with Miligos. Many nights, as well as times during the day, she would see him sitting alone and looking at something far off in the distance. But his posture indicated he was focused intently on an object of some sort, though there was no visible object to be seen, at least, not by her eyes, or any other mortal attempts at sight. She would occasionally try to draw him into conversation, but his answers were simple and short, never engaging, never returning her statements or inquiries with anything more than the base level of communication. It was clear he held no desire to carry, much less perpetuate, any form of conversation. Most of the other mercenaries kept their distance from him and began to revere him with a sort of simple, unknowable awe. He would have been avoided by all of them had it not been for Liani and her attentions.