The Awakening (First in the Dynasty Cycle)

Chapter Five

Meanwhile…

He had always enjoyed the sensation of flying, feeling the wind through his hair and the distinct freedom that accompanied it. Ever since his dragon had been old enough to spread its wings and take to the sky as nothing more than a dark blur, he watched in envy. As soon as Dusk was strong enough to carry a passenger he was upon that great, scaly back. Now, even though the reason for their journey was strictly business, Julian Silverrain leaned down and pressed his body close to his dragon’s neck, urging him to take on more speed. All too willing to oblige, Dusk tucked his wings close to his body, dipping down like an ebony bullet in the night sky. Julian laughed, a pure joyous sound as—for only a moment—the aches and worries of his soul were forgotten.

I think this is it… Voice like a sad breeze in his mind, Dusk turned slightly, dipping the edge of his wing as he angled down to circle a spot. Julian inhaled deeply, the familiar weight upon his shoulders as the scent of the power bewitched him again. This part of the forest was old—older than most that his people inhabited—and it radiated melancholy. It was home to creatures of older origins than even his, and their magic filled the air like an oppressive blanket. The sound of hoof beats was audible as the dragon glided closer, belonging to a small group of around ten of his finest fighters. The elf waited until his dragon was barely skimming over the treetops before pushing himself off of the saddle, falling through the air. The wind ripped at the clothes he wore under his armor, and his hair was lifted away from his face.

As an elf, he naturally landed on the first branch large enough to support his weight. Face remaining impassive, he continued to drop from limb to limb until finally coming to a halt, landing crouched on the forest floor. There was a soft rustle of the leaves ahead of them, no doubt as Dusk went in search of a place to land, and Julian inhaled deeply. The trees of this forest were huge, the lowest branch lying no less than ten feet off the ground, and the trunks so thick that it would take three men just to reach around it. Huge roots jutted up from the ground, only to dive back under in a tangled web. The forest floor was covered by leaves, but that was simply based on feel alone; the forest was close to the coast, and a dense mist spread around the bottom like a thick, moist carpet.

“My lord, I apologize for being late.” Another elf dismounted from the lead horse, his blonde hair pressing damply to his angular face. There was contrite look in his blue eyes, but Julian waved it off, walking around the forest with his hand resting thoughtfully on the ruby encrusted hilt of his sword.

“I want your men stationed here, out of sight. When the portal opens, I want you to bring me whoever comes through, no matter what? Alive, Thamoir, am I understood?” Narrowing his yellow eyes, Julian rested his hand on an exceptionally impressive redwood. There was a small carving in the center of the trunk, a protection symbol mirrored on the tree right next to it. Their branches intertwined, creating a natural archway.  The trees thrummed with magic, and recoiled away from his touch, snapping and shocking at the darkness that pumped through his veins.

The elf king smirked, his yellow eyes glinting hard in the witchlite that his men had brought with them, bathing everything in a phosphorescent green glow. He dug his fingers into the bark, the nails—more like talons now—creating small gouges in the wood and chipping away bits of moss. Once upon a time he would have been repulsed by his actions, but now there was no use for such foolish emotions such as regret, or guilt. His plan, a plan he had spent endless years perfecting, was about to come to fruition and Julian wanted to make sure his efforts paid off.

“You will bring me what I want, you cannot help it. Soon, all of Élan will be mine, and there is nothing that even you creatures can do about it. You will all recognize my prowess.” He whispered harshly, a deranged smile curving his lips and transforming his face into a hideous parody of itself.

The cruel mask was gone almost as soon as it had come, and Julian spun on his heel to face his men. Thamoir shifted slightly, his blue eyes downcast as he awaited orders. He had been easy to sway, one of the first to follow him in this campaign for power, and one of his most loyal subjects. A common misconception that elves were above the clutches of greed, and betrayal… they were not immune, they simply had a higher resistance to it. But even the most stubborn mind could be swayed with the right sort of methods.

You are sure she will come? Dusk asked lightly, from somewhere to the north.

I am positive… it has been foreseen. He answered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The vision had been of a young woman, with black hair and soft, pale skin. She had her mother’s features, but her father’s eyes. But she would be accompanied by a human male, and when he’d tried to do a scrying on them both, only blackness had appeared.

Very well… I am by the ocean, come to me when you are ready to leave. The mental connection between dragon and rider was severed after that, leaving Julian to his own thoughts.

Damn you Merenwen, you had to complicate everything, didn’t you? Hissing savagely, he speared a hand through his hair, turning in a circle and unsurprised to see that he was alone. His men, even the very few humans that were a part of his team, were the best of the best, and could disappear without a trace. They would wait, until the ends of time if he so decided, until she came through the portal although; Julian had a feeling that it would not take quite that long for her to return to this world.

Yet again he tugged at the lengthening tendrils of hair around his face, a nervous habit he’d developed since it had grown long, and he wanted to cut it back to the nape of his neck again. But he was no longer in the desert, nor would he be, so it wouldn’t be appropriate. The elf allowed himself the briefest fond thought of the desert elf clan his mother had come from. She would take them to visit her people every winter, when the cold climate of their city near the mountains was too much for her to bear. Julian had always loved the warm, sandy worlds, the people with kohl laid heavily over their eyes to help them see in the harsh sun, but especially the efficiency of them all. There was beauty in the soft, reddish sands, and the few rock formations that jutted up around them, and in the oases that the tribes had built their cities around.

Get to your dragon boy, there is no time for useless thoughts. A harsh voice echoed in his mind, and Julian found himself turning towards

(a/n: well, here we are at chapter five. it jumps worlds, offering a brief introduction to our mysterious villan.  and, as always, 

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