Inheritors of the Ancients

Chapter 2 Awakening

Finally, Jauron snapped back to the present. He’d realized that he’d stopped just at the edge of the clearing. He was standing near a group of bushes that grew starberries. Gilead’s favorite. They were small berries in the vague shape of a star. Their skin was a midnight blue color, speckled in silver. The juice they produced was a bright blue color, sweet to the taste with a slight bitterness. It was very popular in the elven village. Jauron picked a few before sitting down under the trees nearby. He didn’t know why, but the pressing urge that had drawn him from his home in the middle of the night had ceased. He hadn’t stopped to eat or drink once since leaving his room. The call had come swiftly and fiercely, leaving him no time to prepare his usual provisions. He was happy to take advantage of the rest. Though, he was now even more certain that this meant his journey was far from over. So he rested, not knowing how long he’d be able to do so.

As he lay under the trees near the starberry bushes, he noticed Gilead approaching. As beautiful today as the first day they’d met, Jauron still found it hard to catch his breath. Seeing Jauron squirm in his presence always made Gilead laugh. “Is it just you, or are all humans this weird around elves”, he’d ask with a wry smile. “It’s just me, I can assure you”, Jauron would reply, returning the smile. Gilead was intrigued by Jauron’s shy and reclusive disposition. That’s what drew him to speak to Jauron the first day he noticed him in the clearing. He was a bit disappointed that he ran, but relieved when he returned the next day…and the days following. Gilead was pleased to learn just how similar they were, their love and respect for nature, as well as their interest in maintaining the balance between all living beings. That intrigue and respect turned into a deep and passionate attraction that thoroughly intoxicated both him and Jauron.

Jauron wasn’t unpleasant to look at, he was simply unfamiliar with this kind of romantic attention. It was exciting, but made him a bit uneasy. Jauron had skin the color of freshly ground cinnamon. A rich brown that was contrasted by his light crystal blue eyes, just like his father. He’d sometimes stare at them in the lake, trying to imagine his father looking back at him. His hair, however, he inherited from his mother. It was a beautiful mixture of silver, grey, and white. Aside from a short trim, Jauron never cut his hair. He kept it in a long, thick braid gathered periodically down the length. It was a memento, the only thing left of his mother. While he wasn’t focused on his looks, others were dead set on pointing out his “unusual” features. However, he assumed it was as an oddity of the village, the outcast. None of the villagers had his skin tone, not even the McNair’s. They assimilated into the village slightly better even though Jauron’s father and the McNair’s came to the village from the same place at the same time. This was information he was aware of. His father had told him so before he died. Therefore, he stood out without even wanting to, and Phenton did anything he could to stand out.

He wasn’t tall like Phenton, or even Gilead. He was of average height for a growing boy his age. He was a bit squat, but with a solid build. Hiking through the forest helped keep him in shape, but he was no star athlete like Phenton. He preferred reading, studying his books and tomes of magic when not training or exploring. His face was round with a small squaring of the jaw, slightly feminine compared to Phenton’s strong and sharp features. He had plump lips that he normally didn’t give much thought. However, this was before Gilead. Whenever they would kiss, Gilead would playfully bite them. It was one of his favorite things to do, along with playing in Jauron’s hair. It was awkward at first…Jauron wasn’t used to affection or attention of that nature. Therefore, he was initially apprehensive. With time, warmed to Gilead’s touch. Gilead undo the braid sometimes as they would lay under the stars at night, certain to mention that he didn’t “let his hair down” for anyone. But Gilead made him feel attractive, made him feel wanted. He could almost understand why Phenton liked attention so much. It was intoxicating. But one person was enough for Jauron, and that person was now standing right in front of him, smiling.

“Hello, Gil”, Jauron said. Looking up at him with a shy smile. “I know it’s been a while since my last visit. I’ve missed you. I hope you’re well.”

“I am now”, replied Gilead, lightly caressing the top of Jauron’s head, running his long fingers through Jauron’s hair of silver grey clouds.

“I’ll never figure out how you’ve got silver in your hair. You must put something in it, color it with homemade dyes”, Gilead teased. “But I like it”, he assured Jauron with a mischievous smile. “It would look even better with some starberries in it”, he said with a wink.

“I’m sure it would, Gil”, said Jauron returning the smirk. He knew what Gilead was getting at. “But I’ve got a long shadow today”, he said as he tilted his head back and a little to the left.

As if by instinct, Gilead’s eyes glared in the direction of Jauron’s nod – almost unnoticeably. Understanding what that meant, he opted to change the subject.

“Have you come to keep me company? I’m gathering alone today, so your being here is a nice surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wish”, replied Jauron. “I can’t today”. Looking puzzled, he continued. “I can’t quite explain it but I have this uncontrollable need to explore further into the forest. I came terribly close to being unable to stop and speak to you. This is the first I’ve been able to rest, and I’m not sure how long that will be.”

“Well I’m glad you care so deeply for me that you were able to resist continuing. It would have been upsetting if I’d missed you”, Gilead said playfully. “But jokes aside, are you ok? Do you need my help?” he continued.

“I appreciate the offer but I feel like I have to do this alone”, Jauron said softly as he looked deep into Gilead’s pale green eyes.

“What if it’s dangerous? You need to be careful and watch for time. It will be dark and unfamiliar territory. You don’t know what could happen if you’re not prepared – even you”, Gilead protested.

“You, of all people, should know that I can take care of myself. I made it this far without so much as an issue how many times now?” said Jauron with all the confidence he could muster.

“Should we tell your shadow that, then?” Gilead demanded, moving to the side of Jauron as if speaking to someone beside him.

It was the first time Jauron had ever seen Gilead concerned. He could tell by the tone of his voice that he was worried about him, and a bit frustrated. Gilead wanted to help him…protect him. And Jauron wouldn’t allow it…more specifically, he couldn’t allow it. That was his feeling and he was unable to shake it, therefore unable to relent. This was going to be harder than he thought. It was comforting to know how strongly Gilead cared for him, but this wasn’t the right time. He could feel the need to follow the call of the mysterious energy growing. It wouldn’t be long now before he’d have to leave. He didn’t want Gilead to be upset when he did.

“That won’t be necessary. You know there is really nothing I can do about him. Nor do I want to deal with it at the moment. I only wanted to make sure I spoke to you since you were here. Now I have.” He paused before continuing. “I really must go – and without a crowd. I’ll try to ditch the shadow. I have the feeling that is what must be done. It won’t be that hard to do, if I’m smart about it. But right now, I need to keep going. I don’t know what to expect, but trust me enough to know that I can deal with it.” Jauron pleaded.

“You’re lucky I like you, Ron”, replied Gilead.

“Don’t call me that! And don’t be upset with me. Ok?” Jauron whined as he grabbed Gilead’s hand and placed it on his cheek. Ron was what he called Jauron when he was annoyed. It was a playful way that Gilead expressed he wasn’t pleased with something. It didn’t happen often, but it was his signal. Jauron could understand why Gilead would be annoyed, but he still wasn’t fond of the nickname.

“Ok. Ok.” Said Gilead, as he clasped his free hand around Jauron’s other cheek. “Go. Fulfill this strange need for adventure. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will,” Jauron assured him. As he turned to leave, almost fighting the pull to go deeper into the forest, Gilead stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He walked close to Jauron and pressed his hand on Jauron’s chest. Jauron threw his arms around Gilead’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. It full of emotion but with a bit of roughness. Gilead’s body was pressed so tightly against Jauron’s that he could barely breathe. Only enough air to keep kissing him without stopping. But as long as he was held in his embrace, Jauron was not forced to leave. It was that moment and that moment only. They both knew it would end but were determined to make every minute of it count…empty every ounce of themselves to one another. Both boys trying to use this kiss to convey all the things they couldn’t say, or were afraid to. “I love you,’ would be too simple and yet too difficult for Jauron to express. And so he allowed himself to submit to Gilead’s passion, if only temporarily.

Abruptly, the two were pushed apart as if an invisible barrier materialized between them. It was time to go. Panting, Jauron stood gazing into Gilead’s eyes. Concern and desire mixed in a pool of pale green. He couldn’t fight it anymore. Confused, Gilead gathered himself and looked longingly at Jauron. He nodded, gave a sad smile, and turned to head back into the clearing. Jauron made it about ten feet away when he heard Gilead call out, almost casually…

“If anything happens to you…I’ll hunt your shadow to the end of the Urth and back!” Gilead made a fake pained face as he turned and slowly disappeared into the clearing.

Jauron smiled to himself. The thought of how interesting it would be to see Gilead confronting his “shadow”…who was none other than Phenton. He’d been following Jauron for some time. It had become somewhat of a routine. He was no good at being a spy, least of all in the forest – Jauron’s domain. Phenton might be the star in the village, and in physical combat, but he was sorely out of his element in the forest. He wasn’t completely inept, but compared to Jauron, he was an amateur. He thought he was being stealthy but Jauron could spot him a mile away. He seemed so out of place and uncomfortable. Jauron was certain that if he let on that he was aware of Phenton’s presence, he’d claim to only be following his parent’s orders. Because of his need of their approval, this meant he wouldn’t stop following Jauron in order to “protect” him. Jauron wasn’t exactly sure what he’d come across in the forest that he couldn’t handle, yet Phenton could…save from lifting a heavy boulder bare-handed. But Jauron had no use for a heavy lifter. He was more than capable on his own. He consented to letting Phenton believe that he was some great warrior following his orders without fail. It was less stressful to ignore it, much to Gilead’s dismay.

However, the fact remained that he needed to get rid of him somehow. Jauron hoped that by following this unknown call deeper into the forest that it would lead him to an area perfect for slipping away from Phenton’s watchful eye. As if to realize his hopes of continuing alone…the terrain started to change. Gradually at first. The trees began to slowly grow further and further apart opening the way for large stone structures. Ruins of some old civilization that must have made their homes here hundreds of years ago. Jauron had no knowledge of any villages here, even the elves hadn’t settled in this region of the forest. Instinctively, he knew that he would find a way to lose Phenton beyond these stony ruins. Just a bit beyond them, the ground began to rise in a steep incline. He had to continue on all fours, climbing rocks, and uprooted trees whose trunks were almost as wide as Phenton. Suddenly, his body lurched to the right as if pulled by rope. In front of him there was a large rockface at the base of a large hill. Had Jauron’s body not moved on its own, he would have missed it completely. It was covered in thick vines and roots from the surrounding trees. In the center of the rockface was a craggy opening. Upon getting closer, he realized he could fit through it. At first, he thought he would hide and hope that Phenton would lose track of him and give up on following. Instead, something told him that he would be able to travel through to the other side. Tentatively he climbed in, uncertain of what he’d find. It was a tight fit, which meant that it would be impossible for Phenton to come in after him. The darkness threatened to swallow him whole…but he dared not cast a flame or any other form of light. He didn’t want to give away his position to Phenton, or anything more sinister that may have been hiding nearby. He had to be careful, not being familiar with this area of the forest could be dangerous if he didn’t have his wits about him. While he could hold his own, the uncharted areas of the forest remained uncharted for a reason. Wild beasts and any number of sinister beings could be lying in wait. He couldn’t lose focus worrying about Phenton due to both his surroundings and his ever present drive to figure out just what was calling him.

Jauron couldn’t tell for sure how much time he’d spent traveling through the crack in the rock face. It felt like ages, feeling with his hands for direction. There was no light, and it was so dark that his eyes had no way of adjusting. Right when he thought that he’d be underground somewhere in an endless tunnel trying to find his way out…a small light appeared. He couldn’t run but he scuttled as fast as he could in the space provided. He was damp with sweat, but had a small suspicion that it wasn’t exactly dry in the crevice he was finally leaving. What was left of the sunlight in the sky almost blinded him as he emerged. It was well past mid-day by now, and the sun was no longer its vibrant and confident shade of orange and yellow. It had begun to become a more warm mix of colors and dim ever so slightly. As Jauron descended the hill that lay before him…he noticed more ruins on this side of the rock face. There was a path, eerily well maintained. Though he couldn’t sense anyone near, he could tell by how well-kept the path was that someone or something traveled here. On either side of the path were large pillars. The width of four well-built men standing shoulder to shoulder, and taller than the two story homes in his village. Some had been worn smooth with age and others were cracked and crumbling. The rubble could be seen piled neatly at their sides.

This path continued for close to a mile, leaving Jauron wondering just what these columns were supporting in the past. What massive structure could have been here that required such a grand scale. More pressing was his curiosity as to where exactly it was leading. At present, none of that mattered. Jauron had only one objective, and that was to figure out what was on the verge of dragging him well beyond his normal limits in the forest.

There were rumors about how the Forest of Reverie got its name. Stories of how villagers would venture in in an almost dreamlike state – not dissimilar to the state Jauron found himself in currently. They would go missing for months, and if they were lucky enough to return, they were forever changed. With no memory of what happened to them in the forest, they lived the rest of their lives somewhat addled…strange. Often prone to fits of extreme terror, or stricken mute while unable to turn their gaze away from the forest. The worst cases were those that returned heavily injured and nearly starved to death. One thing was constant, they were unable to speak of the unimaginable horrors they experienced.

These tragedies produced whispers about how the elemental spirits came to settle at the lake of mist. Villagers of Waylan began to believe that they were the remnants of the souls of those lost in the forest. That venturing too deep into the forest required a deep and personal sacrifice if you wished to return. Therefore the villagers opted to steer clear as they deemed the price too steep.

Waylan was small and isolated, being on the southeastern coast of Sew. The Forest of Reverie surrounded them on three sides, cutting off the access to more inland villages. Leaving either the Lyrian Ocean or the Misty River as their only “safe” options of travel. Even the Misty River provided its own challenges as it flowed through the middle of the village and straddled dangerously close along the edge of the Forest of Reverie. Only the most daring villagers sailed their boats up the Misty River. But as a group they were a timid people, prone to superstition. Jauron assumed it was due to the isolation of the village and fear of the forest surrounding them. This was all the more reason for them to rally behind someone as promising as Phenton. He was their brave knight-to-be, a sure hero.

Normally Jauron would laugh off their suspicions. He had firsthand knowledge of how the people in his small village had limited understanding of things unfamiliar to them. Given how much time he spent in the forest, he knew the elemental spirits well. They were no lost souls. The people in his village, on the other hand…he wasn’t entirely sure about them. However, this unshakable presence that pulled him closer and closer was anything but normal. It would be unwise to not be even a little cautious.

It had been several hours since he first entered the forest. The sun had long crested over the hills to the north, above trees in an effort to defy its imminent setting. By now, Jauron could feel exactly what the nature of the force was that drew him so deep into the forest. Magic! He didn’t know who or what it belonged to, if it was good or evil. All he knew was that it was powerful. So powerful that he could barely control his own magic that was now responding visibly. Jauron’s magic often spiked, but never due to outside influence. Jauron was emotional, and as a result, so was his magic. “When his emotions peaked…his magic leaked” is how Lady Tamryn described it when he was young. The rhyme stuck, as did the condition. His magical output leaking was precisely what was happening now. With each step closer to whatever strange well of magic awaited him, Jauron’s magic shot out.

He was what is called an Elementalist. Not surprising considering his time spent in nature. But Jauron was unique, even for a mage – especially by Elementalist standards. It was quite common for Elementalists to control certain elements in nature. The more advanced were known to control more than one – but it was unheard of for an Elementalist to control more than two elements at a time to their full potential. Jauron, however, could use all five; wind, fire, water, Urth, and electricity. What’s more, he could combine them. Nowhere near perfect, his control was directly tied to his emotions. In other words, he didn’t have much control at all. When angry, he would practically erupt causing the ground to rumble and producing boiling pools of molten urth around him. When sad, it would rain, or even snow. It would cover the entire village. With the complexity of human emotions, his magic combining was rather unpredictable. Self-control was one of the most important lessons that Declin would try to teach when instructing him in magic. It was his least successful practice.

Jauron’s magic mirrored his mental state in the current excitement. He was alight with electricity, emitting sparks he was so eager. Undeterred, his pace never slowed. He was accustomed to his magic shooting out like this. Thankfully, he was in the forest which offered him some peace. Here, as long as he didn’t explode, nothing and no one would get hurt. He simply needed to maintain his awareness and not become too surprised. Yet another reason he loved being out in nature, he felt safe…free. He also felt he was getting closer. Forcing himself to steady his breathing, he feared he would get too excited and scorch his surroundings out of witless anticipation. Every droplet of sweat running down his body felt so heavy – as if it would drag him down to the ground when it fell. Simultaneously hot and cold, his body felt as if were going through shock. He was shaking slightly, but he was so close now. He knew it. He was unable to stop. He did not want to.

The pathway and pillars were now far behind him in the distance. He looked forward, body swaying as if in a trance. Before him was a thick cloud of fog. One that had not been there when he was approaching all this time. Even in his current state, he would have noticed. It was clearly a sign that he was close. The magic in this part of the forest must have had ancient spells to protect whatever area this could be. He had to make a choice. Either he had to fight this urge with all his might and turn around, which he was not sure he could do. Or, he could let go of the tension, the apprehension and let his magic, his instinct, and his curiosity lead him.

He chose the latter. He stepped forward, through the dense fog. It was like walking through a water. Cold, shocking his senses. He felt wet all over, though upon looking…it was only from the sweat that had built up from his journey. He remembered one of Declin’s lessons. It was one about barriers and how they produced certain effects. This had to be one of them. He was sure of it.

After regaining his composure, what little he had, he began to survey the area around him. In the distance he could just barely make out a small cave surrounded by a quaint pond. Cascading silently over the mouth of the cave was a waterfall that shone silver. He would have to push through thick trees and brush to reach it. As soon as he made his way beyond the barrier of undergrowth, he knew he had arrived! This was no ordinary area. Jauron could feel the magic here it was so thick. He could almost touch it.

It wasn’t that the waterfall itself was silent, the entire area was soundless. No songs from the birds escaped their beaks, no small rustling noises of the creatures in the area. The magic was so dense that it struck the entire area mute. Jauron had never seen or heard anything like this before. He felt as if he would pass out, the magic here was that strong. The power was unfathomable. Strangely though, that’s all he could feel. Magic. Other than this presence, the place was empty. At first, all he could see was the cave, waterfall, and the pond. The sun was setting in earnest, the stars had begun to peek out in the sky, waiting until the fall of the sun to begin their reign in the coming night sky. The pond’s surface ominously reflecting the somber decent of the sun, echoing the last shimmers of pink, orange gold, and red. There he stood at the edge of the pond overlooking his surroundings, panting, in a near panic. Wondering just what had called him all this way just to refuse to reveal itself to him in the end. Just as he was about to turn to leave, defeated, exhausted…he saw it! Out of the corner of his eye, he got a glimpse.

There, floating on the surface of the pond was no reflection of sunset. “A dragon,” he half whispered, half cried, to himself. Yet, not quite a dragon. It was made of pure light. Pure magic! It floated there, flickering between deep blues and whites, contrasted by soft reds and pinks. But the eyes, the eyes were what captivated him the most. A brilliant shade of gold. Looking into them made him feel as though he were willingly staring into the morning sun. They bore into him, reading his soul. Despite their intensity, there was a warmth present, followed by what seemed like an old sadness. Not unlike the sadness he would see in his father’s eyes when he was alive. Except these eyes held eons of knowledge, of truth, and of experience. It made him want to reach out. In fact, he hadn’t noticed until now that he was doing just that. He had outstretched his hand, longingly in its direction…his body dangling franticly over the edge of the pond. He nearly made up his mind to swim out toward it.

She began to move closer to him, close enough for his hand to touch her. Without a word, he knew that she was indeed a she. Her power and grace gave her away. She leaned her snout downward to allow him to feel her. Magic made solid. It made him shudder she was so powerful.

He’d never known his mother’s touch, but he’d imagined it. The feeling he got from touching this dragon confirmed what he thought it would feel like. He didn’t want to ever let go. He was positive that he couldn’t. He knew that he would be forever connected to this sensation for as long as he lived. Tears were streaming down his eyes, uncontrollably. He was overwhelmed but felt happy. He couldn’t explain why, other than finally reaching his goal. No matter what was in store for him after this point, in the moment…he was happy. Comforted.

She wasn’t huge like the stories he’d heard about the ancients as a boy. It was said that most dragons were as large as a small castle. One of that size would easily fill the entire area Jauron was in, well beyond the pond, the cave, and more. Still, she towered over him. Radiating powerful magic that filled the entire area, Jauron could sense that if she wanted, she could decimate him and miles of the surrounding forest. He was astounded that he remained on his feet. Jauron could see nothing but the dragon, look at nothing but her shining golden eyes. Everything else fell away leaving only Jauron and what must be the spirit of an ancient dragon peering into his soul and overwhelming his senses. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke. Not to him. Within him. Her voice rang inside his whole body with a shattering echo but also a kindness as deep as her gaze. Her words were slow and deliberate and he devoured each one greedily.

“Welcome Jauron…I have come to herald your awakening!”