Recruit

Recruit is a story set in the Tyme universe

Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz3d, Photoshop and Filter Forge

“You’re cheating!” Yvonne snarled, her jaw tight as she rolled back to her feet. Sand crunched, shifted and settled as she moved back onto the balls of her feet, her hands gripped around the slender metal banded wooden staff. A gentle breeze carried the heat across the sands, the distant sounds of voices mingling with stray grains of red sand, the clash steel, wood, and bodies from others practicing their craft. She knew this place as well as she knew her home and considering that her home was no longer a place of welcome, that wasn’t that surprising. “Fight fair!”

“You know I’m not cheating.” The response a calm one as her opponent watched, waiting until Yvonne was ready once more. A pair of ice blue eyes narrowed, small furrows appearing across his brow. “Focus on the fight, on the moves and stop wasting your time and breath on insults.”

His words, she knew they made sense, but her anger, the need to beat him, slashed through common sense. She let out a sharp breath. Sweat beaded across her skin, her muscles tight beneath the slight padding of the practice gear. Not that the padding saved her from carrying bruises by the end of the day. Bruises, cuts, swellings, she didn’t care about those, only getting through the training, making it into the final number, really mattered to her. “I’m just tired.” An excuse and she knew it. A warrior had to learn to push past fear, past emotions, past anything that might stop them from completing their task. She’d had that one drummed into her for as long as she could remember.

“You’re letting your anger get the better of you again. Never wise in a fight, little sister. You know that well enough by now. Let go of your emotions and remember the moves, let your body answer and not your mouth.” His voice never changed, remaining calm - as if they were sitting at the breakfast table and not dancing as warriors. “Give yourself to the training, your muscles know what to do.” He moved again, striking once, twice, three times in quick succession, sending Yvonne tumbling back over the sand, her head ringing from a blow that had caught her across temple. A glancing blow, thankfully, or she’d wouldn’t have had a chance to recover. “Fight back, little sister.”

Yvonne twirled the staff slowly, her gaze never leaving Yacuab. Anger flared back into life, giving life to words she new better than to utter. “You cheated and you’re cheating now. It’s the only way you could have pulled that move on me.” Yvonne spat the words at her brother, knowing them to be a lie. Back down, don’t give into anger, into pride, or into fear. It’s not going to help. She shifted her grip on the staff, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Fight. She had to focus on the fight. All of her training, all those years fighting with her brothers and then the formal training with instructors had taught her that, yet he could still push those buttons within her. “Damn it! Sorry. I’m sorry, okay. I know you’re too honorable to cheat.” The code of the warrior. If the testers had been present, she’ have failed for calling her brother a cheater when he’d done nothing wrong. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have done so, but I expected it.”

How did he expect it? Yvonne bit down on her bottom lip. Her brother had seen battle off world. He wasn’t just a trainer, but a warrior with first hand experience. He knows that there’s no such thing as cheating in a real fight. Once you’re outside of the circle, when you’re fighting for your home, there’s only the winners and the dead. Her father would take the belt to her if he ever heard her utter such a thing. It went against everything she’d ever been taught. Honor, the code, the path of a warrior, they were all a part of the life she wanted, the life she needed to claim as her own.

“Have you calmed down, little one?”

“Stop calling me that!” A child, yes by law she was still a child, but it didn’t mean that she had to like being reminded of the fact. “I’m not some silly little kid stumbling onto the sands for the first time.” And if she wanted them to believe that, she had to get her temper under control once and for all. “For Mars’ sake will you stop pushing me.”

“It’s in his name that I push.” Her brother, twenty years her senior and a long time instructor, arched a red touched eyebrow. “You have to learn how to shut out the verbal assaults during a fight, Yvonne. If you lose your temper in the middle of a fight, you will have lost the fight and perhaps your life.” He set the end of his staff against the sands. “And if you would complete your training then you need to learn to keep your temper under control.” He leaned against the staff, his gaze fixed on Yvonne. “You know this and yet you continue to struggle with the concept.”

“I know.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to rethink your decision.”

She turned and tried to stalk away to the far side of the training sands.

The blow caught her without warning, striking a path down from her left shoulder to her right hip. She grunted, turned, bringing up her staff. Wood and metal clashed, she swore, spat, turned, defended and attacked. Sweat stung her eyes and she howled as a blow caught the fingers of her left hand. Yvonne darted away, shaking her hand out before her hands tightened on the staff, anger bubbling, rolling through her body until it knotted her stomach and back alike. This wasn’t what she wanted. The testing for camp fast approached and as it stood she’d never make it through the entrance requirements and then what? The sun beat down, drying the sweat that had formed when she’d been caught up in the fight. Her limbs shook, not with fear but threatened exhaustion. They’d been at this since before dawn and still her brother showed barely a hint of the wear that pulled at her muscles. With a snarl she turned and marched to the edge of the sands. “I have to be do this. I can’t fail. Why can’t he understand that?”

“What makes you think I don’t understand, Yvonne?” His voice came from directly behind Yvonne.

She flinched, straightened and pushed a stray lock of her unruly auburn hair back from her face. “You have to stop doing that.”

“And which ‘that’ do you mean this time?”

She frowned. Had there been a sigh behind his words? A hint of understanding. She shook her head. How could he be so calm? They’d just spent two hours on and off training and he didn’t even sound out of breath. Was it the training, his experience, or just the fact that he was so much older? She licked her bottom lip, buying a moment before answering. “You’ve got to stop this creeping up on me, especially now. I need some damned space, Yacuab!”

“You won’t be granted any space or time to yourself if you enter the training program,” Yacuab explained even as he reached out and placed one strong hand on her left shoulder. “It’s time you began to understand and accept that. If you make it, then you will share space with at least twenty others in the dorm, you’ll shower together, eat together, sleep in the same room, sometimes two to a bed and you will train together. The only time you will get on your own is if you’re sent to solitary for breaking the rules. This is a part of the process and you will adapt or you will fail and be kicked out of the program.”

Yvonne growled, muscles tightening under her brother’s grip. It didn’t help that she knew he was right, or that he was taking time out of his own work in order to help her train. “I don’t understand why they do that. I need my space every now and then.” Why am I saying this? I don’t exactly get space at the house - and that was a part of the problem. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing for me.” She did. More than she could express. The testing was hard, everyone knew that and most of the men and woman who took the tests, then failed them. Ninety percent of those who made it into the program, then washed out and once you were out of the program you couldn’t worm your way back in. Your only option was one of the hill people training camps. Training that wasn’t regulated in the same way and washing out of their training was done on your back, your body shipped home to your family with a broken wooden sword on your chest - and that’s if you were one of the lucky ones.

No, she had to make it into the formal program and then stay in.

“Warriors of Mars have to find their peace within, not without. You need to be able to reach it at any point, not just when you’re alone, and in the silence of a lonely, empty room, or locked in meditation.” He paused, tipping his head slightly. “What it does is teach you to focus only on the skills you have, the training and to also rely upon the warrior at your side. Your comrades in arms who will continue to fight with you, at your side and sometimes against you in the pits, until their last breath. This is the path you want and yet the girl I see before me isn’t ready for the tests.”

Maybe I’m not cut out for this? “Yeah, yeah, I get that but - but I don’t… shit, I don’t know how to explain this.” Not ready. She had to be ready, there was no way around it, she couldn’t face another year, or two, or more living with her step-mother.

“That’s because you’re still a child, little one.”

Little one. Of all the things he called her, that irked the most. Sure it fit. She was younger than him and shorter by almost two feet but that would change. She hadn’t finished growing yet - at least that’s what she told herself every time she realize just how short she was compared to the rest of her family. It didn’t help that she was the only daughter in a household of seven brothers, her father, a step-mother, and two uncles. Surrounded by warriors, training with male warriors since the day she’d been old enough to stand, and still she struggled with the simple things of controlling her temper, shutting out the words thrown at her during a fight and focusing only on the task at hand. “I should be better than this. With everything I’ve been exposed to I know I should be able to handle all of this.”

The grip on her shoulder tightened, turning her around with a sharp tug.

“Ow that…”

“Hurts. It’s supposed to,” his voice cold, gaze focused. “You’re still a child, Yvonne and you’re not ready to take the challenge. Not when you only get the one chance and you’re doing this for the wrong reason.”

“I’m old enough to do it!”

“Only according to tradition.” He shook her hard and fast before he let go. “So physically yes, you’re ready. Emotionally - that is another matter entirely.”

Yvonne gasped, half lifted from her feet. “But I…”

“Yes, I know - I was fifteen and passed the test, completed the training but looking back I was too young. I scraped through many of the classes, and it wasn’t until one of the instructors took me to one side and beat the crap out of me, that I finally realized what I needed to do. Five weeks in the infirmary - five weeks to get myself under control, but I pulled through.” He rubbed his left hand over a thin scar that ran along the left hand side of his jaw, barely there now but she’d seen him rub it when he was trying to find the words he needed in order to get his point across. “What I’m saying is this. Thirteen is too young, the average age for the test is seventeen.Most don’t even apply until their nineteen and with good reason.” He leaned in close, his breath hot against her face. “You have no control over your temper, over your emotions in general, and there hasn’t been a child of your age enter the training in over fifteen centuries and for good reason. It takes focus to control emotions and not be controlled by them. Something that rarely occurs in one of your scant years.”

“Then I’ll be the first!” She could do this. She had to do this. One more year in that house, the baby of the family, always being told she was too young, too small, too much of a child, a failure, less than the rest, was more than she could take, let along another four years. “I’m better than everyone else in my class. You know that, you’ve seen that!” He’d succeeded and so would she. So, he’d been two years older and maybe he’d had to spend that time healing up in the middle of the course but…What if he’s right?

Yacuab sighed and released her, stepping back onto the sands. “Yes, you are but that doesn’t mean that you’d survive the training there.”

Survive. What a joke. No one died in the formal training program. Not in generations. They were civilized now. If she wanted to face that type of risk, she’d go to the hill tribes and ask to be named and numbered among them. “I’d manage.”

“Is it really that bad at home?” He rolled out his shoulders, his body strong, lithe muscle that spoke of the long years of training, of work as a warrior and so much more. Yacuab raised one hand to his temple, the hand marred by a dozen thin silvery scars that he’d never taken care of - though they would be simple enough things to have removed. “Do you really feel as if the training program is the only option for you?”

“His wife…”

“Your step-mother.”

“His wife wants me gone. I look too much like our mother.” Red hair, the beginnings of curves, dark eyes, one hundred percent Marian blood line, unlike the step-mother with her traces of off world, out of system blood line. “She keeps trying to get him to agree to send me off world, to some stupid academy.” Academy. A lie. She wanted Yvonne gone. It wouldn’t be so bad if Serena had suggested a place on Valhalla, but no it was some out of system, not tied to Mars in any form, academy where she’d learn discipline.

“There are other options,” her brother moved away, stepping off the outer ring of the sands, where under normal circumstances there might have been watchers. Beyond the final ring of heartwood to the polished stone and wood benches. “Come, little sister. We need to talk.”

Talk? What good would that do her? She cast a glance up at the skies, watching the rolling clouds, the color of the sky and the darting, diving, swooping flight of raptors. They were free, able to follow their hearts and their instincts. They kicked out their young from the nest at an early age, encouraging them to fly, to seek a home of their own, whilst she remained, trapped by a father who had no time for her, and a step-mother who saw only the features of a long dead rival. “Talk - all you want to do is talk.” She scowled, folding her arms beneath her breasts and glared at him.

“No, not all - but with you sometimes talking is the best thing and this time I hope, truly hope, you will listen to all I have to say.” He patted the bench next to him. “It will go easier if you sit for a time. Your body has had enough exercise and a little rest with some water and conversation would be a welcome thing. Even if you’re not ready to believe that right now.”

She couldn’t deny the need to rest and at the mention of water she swallowed. Her mouth and throat were dry, fighting and exercising under the sun, with the wind carrying sand to beat in her face and eyes, filling her mouth at times - well, water would be a welcome thing indeed. Yvonne nodded once, bit back her pride and walked over to join her brother. “Fine, I’ll listen.”

He waited until she was settled before speaking again. “She fears you will be exactly like your mother.”

“Of course she does.” One man, two wives - it had been an odd situation at the best of times but only because of the tension between her mother and her step-mother. Poly relationships weren’t unheard of, and there certainly wasn’t any social stigma or legal issues associated with it, but in their case there had been a constant tension between the two wives. Originally, before Yvonne had been born, there’d been a second husband in the mix, but according to stories he’d died off world in a fight against the Ontourian Raiders twenty-five years ago. Without that extra husband, the struggle over her father had begun. “I look too much like her, so every time she looks at me she sees my mother. That’s not going to change anytime soon.” In fact it would become worse. The older Yvonne became the more she looked like her mother. Even her hair sat the same way, with identical highlights and the flecks of color in her eyes had grown to match the images she still had of her mother in her bedroom.

“It’s more than that, little one. You match her in attitude and though our father would never view you in a sexual manner, she fears that your appearance will encourage him to look for another wife.”

“And that’s my fault?” Her hands curled into fists. “I didn’t ask to look like her.” It didn’t stop the tension. They couldn’t even speak in a civil manner anymore. “She hates me and I have to get out of there. The training - it’s the only chance I have.” Yvonne pushed back her hair, trying to tuck it back into the braid and headband combination that was supposed to keep it out of her eyes.

Yacuab shook his head. “No, there’s another way. You could enter a program off world and…”

“No, that’s what she wants. She wants me far away from here, off world, out of system. I can’t do that!” Yvonne snapped.

“Listen.” A sharp word. Something she rarely heard from him.

Her jaw set. “Fine.”

“The one she suggests wouldn’t work, but there’s an option that would work and would keep you within the system - and put you at the forefront of a new program.”

That caught her attention. She frowned, watching his eyes, searching for some sign that this was a trick. “What are you talking about?”

“Kayala of Chronos offered me a post to train cadets. With that comes the chance to place three students from Mars, three students I’ve worked with, all under fifteen, who would be willing to serve as a part of the new Elite System One Defense force if they successfully complete their training.” Yacuab touched one finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze. “You wouldn’t be treated the same as everyone else in the program. I’d have to be twice as hard on you as anyone else because of the blood tie. There would be no days off, no weakness, and I’d cease to be your brother there. I’d be your instructor, your commanding officer, and I will push you harder than you can ever imagine.”

Her heart skipped a bead as a cold shiver ran down the length of her spine. “Elite Defense Force?”

“Kayala wants a combined force, representing all five worlds, so we will never be vulnerable to the Raiders again. This training program, it’s only the beginning - it won’t be easy.”

No, it wouldn’t be easy. She swallowed hard. Leave Mars, leave her family and turn her back on the training program here. She nibbled her bottom lip and stood up, turning slowly as she looked around the sands. Chronos - another world entirely - training with others from the five worlds. Working to serve Kayala of Chronos to defend their system. A chance to learn so much more than was offered here, but she’d be turning her back on tradition at the same time in order to carve a new path. “I couldn’t be among the name and numbered warriors of Mars.”

“No,” Yacuab admitted.

“Have you chosen the others?”

“Yes.”

“When do you leave?” She forced herself to look at her brother.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Yvonne, daughter of Mariana and Byron, child of Mars, lifted her gaze to watch the soaring raptors, their bright blue wings catching the sun. For as long as she could remember, she’d watched the birds claim the air but if she left with Yacuab how long would it be before she could stand on the sands and watch them again? This was her home but what if something more, something better waited for her on Chronos? Something she was meant to do…

“What time do we leave?”

First Steps

First Steps is an Erien setting story.

Artwork by Samuel Pray created using Daz 3D, Photoshop and Filter Forge

"It's easy, I don't know why you're making such a fuss about the entire thing." Niama sighed and looked back over her shoulder, her long lashes brushing over her bright green scales for a moment before she opened her eyes once more. Dark golden eyes flashed with amusement as she flicked her tongue over her sharp front teeth. With a low chuckle she rolled out her shoulders, the muscles flexing beneath her shining scales. "All you have to do is..."

"I know what I have to do, it's just that - I don't think I can do it. Not right now at least." Brand growled, baring his own teeth. Fear. It wasn't something anyone wanted to admit to, least of all one of his lineage. Things were expected from him. Great things. Yeah, he'd heard the rumors, caught the tail end of conversations that died when he landed near a group of hatchlings or older dragons. They all had their own ideas of what he would do and it was made all the worse by the fact that he was the last of his clutch to find his gifts.

"You mastered flying easily enough, so what's the problem? This should be simple for you."

Flying? That was easy compared to this. What did Niama know about the situation? It wasn't as if she shared the same power, or lineage. He was of Orent's blood, one of only five hatchlings born to the great black dragon in the past one hundred years, and his mother - where was she? Working with a human of all things. Just as she had been for generations. Bound to the line of the Dragon Throne, a servant instead of a mother. She chose that life, didn't she? Or was she pushed into it? Not something he'd ever been able to ask her, not in the brief visits that he'd been able to enjoy with his mother. Now he faced this step without the support of a parent, for the Gods alone knew who his father was. Not one member of his clan was willing to share that information with him.

"You know most of us go through the exploration of our abilities without our parents," Niama rose, flicking out her wings before she lowered her head, stretching her back with a slow, elegant grace. "Dragon kind doesn't stifle their children. We grow, we explore, and we find our own way in life. It's time you learned to do the same thing. Stop focusing on the fact that Orent is your mother, it's holding you back."

"Yeah, well most of you do stupid things anyway!" He snapped - and instantly regretted the words. I'm not focusing on my mother. How could I - I barely even know her. Would he even recognize Orent if the great black dragon landed in front of him? She was, in all reality, a stranger to him at this point.

The green dragon turned, slowly, and met his gaze, arching an eyebrow. "If we weren't friends I'd fry you here and now for that."

Brand grumbled and ducked his head. "Yeah, okay, I'm sorry. What you do - it's not stupid. Not like I can spit fire or ice the way you do. It's just that... there's no one else here I can ask. We're not even certain I can do it, it's just assumed I can because I'm not showing signs of anything else." Power, they all had some sort of power they could call upon, fire, lightning, ice, acid, spell casting, there were even rumors of those dragons who - many generations back - had the ability to jump through time. Not that such a thing had happened since the dawn of their kind. But his mother, the Lady Orent, bound to the Dragon Throne, was something more. She was a magic user of the highest level, able to find and form soul stones, use elemental magic and open a gate that allowed swift travel between one area and another. If the tales were to be believed Orent could open a gate and travel from one side of Erien to the other in the matter of moments, a rare magic that also appeared in a handful of human lines.

"Foolish male."

"Stubborn female!"

"Rock face!"

"Flame breath!" Brand turned, snarling at Niama, only to flash a wicked grin a heartbeat later. "Should push you off the ledge and dunk you in the hissing swamps. See what you look like covered in rag weed and slop!"

"You and what clutch?" Niama laughed, baring her teeth in a challenge even as she lowered her head, lifting her tail as her body tensed, ready to pounce. She stopped, blinking for a moment before she stood up and met his gaze. "You're trying to avoid the testing."

"What? Me? No, nothing like that, just having a little fun is all." Smoke and Stars, why did she have to stop and think? He wasn't ready for this, but the elders would be waiting for him. If he'd been caught up in a playful moment with Niama at least he could have shared the blame with someone else when he didn't show up.

"Uh huh, you forget, I know you." Niama rolled her eyes and looked, pointedly down at the bowl like gathering area among the base of the spires that the dragons called home. Or at least this group of dragons claimed as their own. There were other dragon settlements across the face of Erien, though neither Brand nor Niama had visited them. "Come on, I'll go down with you."

Brand sighed, stretched out and looked around. Tall multi-colored rock spires reached up toward the sky. Ledges, caves, rock perches and look out points all showed signs of dragon claws. High above the spires a dozen young dragons flew and dived, playing cloud hopper games to the mixture of delight from younger dragons and complaints from older ones. This place, the Spires, was home and because of that it was the center of his world. But I don't want it to be like this. I don't want to stay here for the rest of my life. "If I complete the testing, I'll be an adult."

"Yes, you know that how it works." Niama flicked out her wings and shifted to the edge of the ledge. "And then you'll be - for the most part - free of their restrictions. You can come and go as you wish as long as you respect the laws of our people."

Brand nodded once. Leave. He needed to leave the Spires. As long as he lived here he'd be the son of Lady Orent. The only one of the clutch that had a physical resemblance to his mother and the one they expected great things of. "They think I'm going to be like her."

"Yes."

"What if I'm not?" He moved to the edge, letting his claws curl around the rock. "What if I don't become a bonded, or I don't do anything of note?"

Niama tipped her head to the left, flicking her right ear at him. "If you don't then it doesn't matter. We're dragons, we're of note to begin with. All of the other races look at us and wish they were like us." She shrugged before she turned to look down at the clearing where the elders waited. "We are ourselves, and don't have to be anything else."

Easy for you to say. Your parents are... normal.

"Come on, Brand. Best to get this over and done with." Niama flashed a grin and launched herself into the air, spreading her wings out to catch the updraft. The subtle touch of magic vibrated through the air, the very magic that made it possible for dragons to be able to fly. "Come with me, Brand. Get this done and then we can play!"

Play, as if I'll ever get the chance to play again after the testing. The council, the elders, would have things they would expect him to do. They'd send him out on work, maybe a scouting mission, something that would keep him out of trouble. At least in their eyes. "Fine, let's go down and see them."

Niama circled, waiting for him, catching and riding the thermals, her gaze never leaving him.

With a shrug he closed his eyes, leaned forward and let himself fall. His wings snapped out, catching the air as the magic kicked in giving him the chance to settle himself before he turned, soaring up for a moment. This was freedom, this was it was to be a dragon except - except there was something more. The magic, the rest of the power that rippled within his body, still ached with the need to escape, to be discovered and until he took this test, until he found out what he was capable of doing, he'd be incomplete.

Is that what's wrong?

He scowled, focusing for a moment on the waiting dragons beneath them. "I'm not incomplete I'm just...unsettled."

"Did you say something?" Niama glided in a little closer.

"No, I'm fine." Yeah, just dandy. Going to get this test over and done with, find I can't do anything and then be the laughing stock of the entire colony. They'd never let him live it down. Here he was, the son of the Lady Orent and a failure. Sure, he was a dragon and he could fly, but real magic? Not something he was gifted with. He knew that, knew within his heart that he'd go through the testing and fail in an all too dramatic way. Worse, there would be witnesses who couldn't be denied. The Elders. Their word - no, he had to stop thinking like this.

He growled, teeth clenched as he angled his body and dropped down, spiraling at the last minute before he stretched out his wings, using the sudden catch of air in his wings draw him to a sudden stop. Only then did he feel the ground beneath his feet and closed his eyes before he folded his wings in against his body, turned, rolled out his shoulders and faced the waiting trio of Elders.

"We have been waiting for you." A deep gray dragon with ice blue fur tumbling down from his neck in a mane, met his gaze.

"I'm sorry about that, old one." Brand lowered his head slightly. "I let my fears get the better of me."

"Fears? What fears could you possibly have, young one?" The second dragon, a deep blue with silver horns that curled on either side of her head, inquired.

"That I would fail completely, and find that I have no inner magic. Nothing I can call upon save the ability to fly." The words slipped out before he found the strength to lock them deep within.

"And you think that no other dragon has faced such a fear, Brand son of Orent?" The final Elder spoke, his voice deep, rolling with the power of the earth, matching the bronze and iron color of his scales.

"Well..." Brand swallowed hard, fighting a rising heat that flushed beneath his cheek scales.

"We all face that fear at your age, young one. We all came down for our testing wondering if we would be the first to fail." The Gray dragon added, his voice soft as a breeze. "We faced this and we conquered it. You will do the same thing. So, I ask you, on behalf of this council - are you ready for your testing, Brand son of Orent."

No. I'm not. I can't do this. Not right now.

"If you're not ready, speak now and we can wait another moon, or three, however long it takes for you to reach a point where you're ready to face the testing." The bronze dragon explained, his voice firm, eyes cold metal as he watched Brand.

"I'm ready." What - why did I say that? I'm not ready. It was too late to take that back now. The words had been said, the acceptance of the testing had been announced. "Waiting won't change anything. Either I do this now or I continue to run away from it." Had that been what he'd been doing? Running from it?

"A wise choice, young Brand." The blue dragon nodded once before the three Elders spaced out until they surrounded Brand. "Then the testing will begin and you will take your final steps into adulthood as our people count such things."

Adult. He'd be an adult. Able to choose his own place to live, explore beyond the safe skies above the Spires, and - and then what? Where would he go? What would he really do with his life? Too late to think about things like that. I've made my choice. Time to face the testing. He couldn't even remember the names of the three Elders that stood in the circle around him. His mind reeled, turmoil claiming it as he tried to focus on his breathing and on the magic that he would summon into life for the first time.

"Close your eyes," the bronze dragon instructed.

Brand let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. His heart raced and panic clawed at the inside of his chest. He wasn't ready for this. No matter what he'd agreed to he couldn't do it - he had to back out before…

"Focus on your breathing, clear your mind of everything else but the breath moving in and out of your body." The elder bronze dragon continued, his voice pitched low. "You are here, you are ready, and you've agreed to take the final test. Your magic is a part of you, as natural as the breath in your lungs."

Is it? Or am I fooling myself here?

"Let the walls down, the walls of doubt and fear. Let them go now with the next exhale. They are no longer a part of you, they are free, cast out into the air to carry away on your breath."

He exhaled slowly, trying to follow through with the instructions. It couldn't be that easy. No matter what the elder said, nothing could be as simple as a breath leaving his body. He inhaled once more and let out a new breath, picturing the tension leaving his body, carrying his anguish with it. Tension eased from his body and - for a moment - something crumbled within. Walls? He tried again, another deep breath that eased from between his lips and the wall disintegrated deep within him.

"Now, reach inside, reach deep, down into that core of magic and lift it up."

He no longer focused on who was speaking, only on the words. Words that opened something within him. He reached, following the instructions, for the power that waited for him. Slowly it answered his call, coming to his mental claws until he was able to bring it closer, able to see it clearly for the first time. It rippled within his grasp, bright silver, flickering and alive. Power that he couldn't deny, but didn't know what to do with. At least not yet.

"That's it, you've got it. Now, bring it out and into your fore claws."

Brand struggled to keep his eyes closed even as he pictured the ball of energy moving from his mental hands into his physical grasp. Something crackled across the palms of his fore claws and he gasped, opening his eyes before he had the presence of mind to stop himself.

"There's - there's nothing there," Brand mumbled. It didn't make sense. He could feel the energy moving across his claws and spreading out along his arms. "But I can feel it."

"It's there. It exists. You have to let it go, let it show you what it can do." The bronze Elder spoke, his voice ever calm and strong. "You're safe here, the wards are set. Nothing you do here will harm anyone else. All you have to do is let it go."

He swallowed. Hard. Let it go, such an easy thing to say but to do it - that was something completely different. What other choice do I have? I can't just leave it rippling over my body like this... can I? It continued to spread, thinning out, moving over his body until it covered his head, leaving him looking through a semi-transparent haze. It spread further down, coating every inch of his body, from the tip of his snout down to the very point of his tail.

"You've done it."

"What?" Done what? Nothing's happened. "I don't understand."

"We can hear your voice, Brand - but we can't see you. Even your voice is muffled, though we know it's you and that you're there."

His throat tightened and he turned, slowly, taking care not to disturb the small rocks beneath his feet. Could they really not see him?

"Invisibility is rare, very rare... and in time you will be able to muffle even the loudest of noises that you might otherwise make."

Invisible? He looked up, tensing as he did so. The urge to leap, to soar through the air and find out if anyone could see him, itched its way down the length of his spine. The power, it tingled across his scales, set a film over his eyes and muffled his steps - the power was undeniable. "I've done it."

"Now you have to draw it back in, gather it back up and store it within."

Why? I don't want to do that. I like the way it feels.

"You must control the magic. Not let it control you, Brand."

No more 'young Brand, son of Orent'. Just Brand. Named and accepted as an adult, but only if he could complete this final part of the test. With a shudder he closed his eyes, drawing in the magic a fraction at a time. Slowly at first and then with gathering speed, it obeyed him, returning to his grasp before the remaining energy returned to the hidden place within. Less than before, yet it wouldn't be long before it returned to its full strength. Only then did he open his eyes and meet the combined gaze of the three Elders.

"Well done, Brand. Very well done indeed." The Bronze took a step forward, extending his left fore claw in a greeting that offered peace and respect between equals. "You've completed your first steps as an equal, an adult, into the world of your people."

Brand looked down at the fore claw and took it, the movement clumsy this time. He knew that, but the smile that claimed his features was undeniable.

"I knew you could do it, Rock Face!" Niama called out from somewhere above the small gathering. Brand looked up, trying to form the words, but his age mate was already gone, darting through the spires and heading up into the clouds where he knew she'd dance and play with the others, but that wasn't for him. Not this time at least. Not when he had so much to learn.

Yes, I did it, completed the first steps - but not the last...not by a long shot.

Erien is used as the setting for Battle Skies, a table top 3D combat game. Novels in this setting are currently being reedited and formatted for re-release in May. Current Battle Skies releases can be found here.

Birth

Artwork by Samuel Pray using Daz 3d and Photoshop.

Birth follows on from last week's story, and is set during the early centuries of vampire history, using the Shadow Sprawl setting created by Terri Pray.

Where is he?

Lilith groaned and rubbed one hand against the small of her back. Pressure, pain, the ungainly weight, being pregnant wasn't something she enjoyed - at least not at this stage. It would be over soon enough, the small but constant changes in her body, and the new occasional waves of pressure, promised that she would hold her child in her arms within a few days.

At least she hoped so - it wasn't as though she had others of her kind to ask about carrying a child, or how long one of her kind would be pregnant. Would it all work the same way it did for the daughters of Eve? The same length of time before the child made its way into the world? Would it hurt? She'd spied only once on a human birth and the sight had disgusted her. Blood, tears and screams - with only a handful of other women around to help the mother through the process. Did she have others who might be willing to help her through this?

Maybe.

There were only three other females currently existed as a part of her family. Each one carefully chosen and turned by Lilith, but not one of them had given birth before being turned, and she was the first of her kind to carry a child long enough to potentially bring it into the world. There had been miscarriages, and until recently they'd all wondered of children would be a part of their kind, or if all new blood would have to come from the ones they turned. As for the women, much to Caine's disgust he'd been unsuccessful in turning a female, and only two of the males he had chosen had survived the turn.

A small wave of pressure moved down the length of her spine and she exhaled slowly. These odd cramps had begun earlier in the day but it would pass. She had to believe it would pass. There had been incidents like these on and off throughout the last moon cycle.

"Lady?" Mikel's soft voice broke through her thoughts.

With one hand now resting on the swell of her belly, she eased the other from her back and rested it against the rough bark of a tree as she turned toward him. Life vibrated through from the tree and into her fingers, creeping through her skin and bones before it eased its way along the length of her arm. For a moment she forgot about Mikel, closed her eyes and let herself sink into the sensations. With a soft shake Lilith turned her attention away from the tree and back to the waiting vampire. "Yes?"

"The air is changing, a storm coming in."

Lilith turned her gaze skyward and peered through the canopy, inhaling as she did so. The taste of the air had changed - why hadn't she noticed it before. Her gaze narrowed as she took in the subtle shifts in color across the sky. "We need better cover than this." Would rubbing her back help? She rubbed the small of her back again, trying to ease the growing discomfort. "A place we can settle for a day or two," maybe longer if the child decided to make an appearance.

"Caine hasn't returned." A gruff voice protested.

"He'll be able to find us, and he can't expect us to wait for him without decent cover." Lilith shook her head, turning back to the waiting men. A shiver traced down her back and she inhaled, wrapped her arms around herself. "Jace, have faith in Caine - he's an able tracker and we will leave signs for him. It should be enough." Despite his faults, Caine was a skilled hunter, tracker and provider. So, the signs would have to be enough, and if Caine had a problem with her decision, she'd deal with it and him. The child she carried had to come first. "Spread out, we need to find shelter before this storm hits."

The small group, men and women alike, scattered save for Mikel who kept close. A small frown furrowed his brow and he waited until the others were out of hearing before speaking and even then he kept his voice low pitched, taking care to make sure his words didn't carry beyond her ears. "Lady, your decision - it will anger him."

Lilith didn't answer immediately, preferring not to snap a reply at the man. He wasn't wrong in his assumption, but neither was he a punching bag for her responses. "If it does, then it is his own fault for being gone so long. Once he has calmed down, he will understand that it was for the best." The sun had been high in the sky when Caine had left to find fruit. With the abundance offered by the forest, that should have been a short task, but now the sun had moved until it was low over the horizon, promising the coming of night before much longer. What is keeping him? One of the First Sons? That group had threatened them a time or two, but there'd been no sign of them in the last seven moons. "If it were not for the storm we could have set up a camp, but we dare not risk it, not with the birth so close at hand."

Mikel didn't respond, at least not verbally - but the tension rippled through the air as they half walked, half jogged.

"We're on the edge of a decent mountain range here - there should be something we can use, at least in the short term." A cave, even a hollow that they could expand would be useful at this point in time.

Mikel grunted.

And that's the only acknowledgment I'll be granted right now. Lilith swallowed a growl and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow only to blink and look down at the back of her hand. Sweat? She didn't normally sweat from a light jog.

The mingled aromas of the coming storm and the woodland, with its heavy overgrowth, animal population and now the smell of her own people, filled her nostrils. Yet there was something beneath those scents. Other beings, sources of blood and food, but the idea of sinking her teeth into a vein - turned her stomach.

"Lady... there! I think I see something, up along the slope." Mikel pointed through the trees at what looked like a dark slash in the rock.

Lilith eased through the thinning trees and rested against a large rock, letting her gaze move up along the side of the slope and into the rock face. Her gaze narrowed on the dark slash. A small opening or something more. "It might work. We'd need to get up there..." Did she have enough energy to make it up the slope. Enough time? The pressure spiked rippling out from the small of her back, around and down, sharper than before, forcing her to let go of her breath in a low hiss between clenched teeth.

"Lilith?" Mikel reached out to her, taking her weight as he stepped into her space and eased one arm under her shoulders. "Sorry, I meant Lady..."

"Lilith will work, you're a child of my blood, you should be able to address me by name." She offered what she knew to be a weak smile. "It is just the child. I - I fear we will not have much longer before he joins us." The close contact would mark her with more than a hint of Mikel's scent, but there was nothing to be done about that now. She couldn't make it without help now.

The first heavy rain drop struck the bridge of her nose.

"Let's get you up there," Mikel grunted.

His grip shifted, one arm slid beneath the back of her legs and before she had a chance to protest, Mikel lifted her up into his arms. "You shouldn't."

"If we want you safe, then I need to carry you. For now, at least." He shifted her weight, bringing her in a little closer against his chest. "The child comes sooner than you expected."

"I believe so," not as if she had any way of truly judging. Weak, that lack of knowledge made her weak. She'd learn from this, gather the knowledge so that those who came after her would be better prepared.

"Mikel, what are you - he'll kill you for this!" Jace hurried across the slope, the sound of heavy steps following the man as the others in their group caught up.

"He'd kill both of us if she isn't in a safe place when the child arrives, and it's showing all signs of haste. Or do you want to be the one to tell Caine why we let his wife give birth in the forest like a dryad, or sprite? Instead of within the safety of stone like the Goddess she is."

Goddess - Lilith smiled at the words. Mother to their race, that was close to a goddess, and she wasn't about to argue. Not now at least, there'd be time enough for that after the child was safe within her arms.

"Fine, but when he asks what happened, I'll swear on my blood that it was your idea." Jace growled as he shot a dark glare at Mikel. "And I won't stand in his way when he wants to take your head. But until then we work together." Jace shook his head and moved in front of Mikel, gesturing to the others, before he began to clear a path. "Up there, that crack in the side of the mountain. Jenna, stay with our Lady and Mikel. Kale, with me. We need to make sure that's usable."

Jace. The man clung to every word Caine uttered. Not a bad thing under normal circumstances but there was something about the man that...

She grunted as a new wave of pressure and pain rolled through her. Was it her, or were they coming more quickly now?

"I felt that one." Mikel spoke low but picked up the pace, following the path set out by the group. Twigs snapped beneath his feet, dirts and small rocks tumbled down the slope in the wake of their passage. "I've seen daughters of Eve give birth, my mother for one - or rather I heard it. You'll be in the full throws of this before the sun has set - if you aren't all ready going through it."

Men didn't take part in child birth, she'd learned that much from watching Adam's children. She doubted that it would change with her children. She'd lean on Jenna, Alliana, and Calliandria - the only other three women in their group. Her children by blood and turn, rather than blood and birth. Women she had protected from Caine, at least she believed she had, and those women would now offer their protection to see her through this ordeal.

"It's a cave! That gap is the entrance to a cave!" Jace's voice carried down from the entrance into the side of the mountain. "Needs work, but it will offer shelter for now. We just have to get her in there."

"Get a fire going, furs laid out, and water. The child comes sooner than we thought." Mikel warned as he carried her in, setting her down on her feet with exaggerated care. Noise welcomed them into the cave, men and women working, the sound of flint striking against stone, followed by the first flickering of a fire. "Lady, take a moment to steady yourself."

"I fear I will need more than a moment for that." She groaned and tried to find her balance. The weight shifted across her swollen belly, but not from the child moving. Her body was no longer her own to command, the waves of pressure combined pain and the rippling turned into a deep need to expel the life within her.

Relief washed over Lilith, tension that she hadn't admitted to, eased from her back and shoulders only to be replaced by a new wave of pressure. Wetness seeped, cloth soaking even as the first cry tore from her lips. Her knees threatened to buckle, breath catching as she struggled to stay upright.

"Lady, lean on me." Jenna moved behind her, even as Calliandria set the men to work, gathering firewood and preparing the cave, before she moved to join the other women. "Alliana, we need to help her walk."

"Walk? Are you sure? She hurts, shouldn't she sit? Better still, lay down?" Mikel took a step toward the new fire.

"Walking will help her bring the baby into this world. Laying down - men, what do they know of childbirth." Alliana snorted. "We may not have birthed children, but we've both seen mother's and aunts give birth."

"The fire needs to be bigger, and we will need water to wash the babe when it arrives," Calliandria gestured to the entrance of the cave. "Go, gather what we will need, and then set yourself to guarding the entrance."

Lilith leaned into the assisting arms and began the slow walk back and forth across the cave. Why hadn't she thought of asking the women? Did I think because they hadn't had children, that they knew little or nothing about the process?

A mistake she now regretted as the two women walked with her.

"Breathe through it, Lady." Calliandria encouraged when the next wave of pressure struck. "Don't try and talk, just breathe through the - the contraction." The woman stumbled over the word, as if dragging it from a buried memory. "Movement and breathing, it will bring the babe on all the faster."

"Breathe?" She wanted to ask more, to ask why they thought it would be that easy, but the tightening of muscles took the ability away from her. "Hurts." She hissed the word between clenched teeth.

"It will be over soon enough, Lady." Jenna squeezed her arm. "We have faith in you."

Sweat beaded across her brow and down the length of her spine. Every step took more energy than the last and she leaned heavily on the two women, even as Calliandria turned her attention to setting up furs, cloth, bowls and wrappings. The contractions - a good name for them - changed her body, pushing the baby further down until she felt things shift even further. "I-I need to...think - it's time."

As one they moved, but even then they didn't ease her to her back, but rather into a squatting position. Cloth was moved out of the way, support in the form of Jenna standing behind her, acting as a brace, was set up, and water passed back through to the women from a man who quickly took himself back to the cave entrance.

"Caine, I need Caine." Lilith moaned, her eyes half closing as she leaned into the support offered. "Is he..."

"There's no sign of him, lady." Mikel called out.

"Wait, I have to..."

"Your body and the child will not allow you to wait. The child comes now, and you must do as your body dictates in this." Jenna rubbed one hand firmly against the small of Lilith's back. "It is time to bring your child into the world."

Caine. Where are you? You're supposed to be here with me for this moment. This is your child too. Your child and I can't do this - shouldn't be left to do this - without you...

"Push, lady - your child needs you. It's time to push!"

Rights

Warning - contains mild adult content

Rights is a Shadow Sprawl story by Terri Pray.

Artwork by Samuel Pray using Daz 3d and Photoshop

"We can't keep moving around like this, always running from one place to another," Caine leaned against the trunk of a large tree, relaxing in the shade that the wide spread branches. "You can't keep up, that much is painfully obvious. The birth -it's coming soon, isn't it?" He turned, letting his gaze move over the darkly beautiful form of his mate, lingering on her swollen belly. His child, within her body his child -a son- grew, preparing to enter the world. A boy. It would have to be a boy. Lilith had spoken about a daughter, but he knew better. The life within Lilith was strong, active and it had to be a boy. A son he could teach, protect, and introduce to the world as his heir. The first of their kind...

No, Lilith was the first, and then she made me. She brought me into the darkness, bathed me in blood and remade me, yet I'm still weaker than she is - or so she says. She's wrong - of course - I'm the stronger one out of the pair of us - that's the nature of things, the male is always the stronger of the pair. Yet she insists she is the stronger. Did he believe the lies she told him? No, but that didn't prevent her from repeating them any time he spoke out against them. Stubborn female, after so many years together he had hoped she would begin to accept the truth, yet she still fought him. Well, once the child was born, he'd take a firmer hand with her, or he'd begin to look for another mate. One more willing to bend to his wishes.

He didn't look at Lilith for a moment, the woman always seemed to know what he was thinking - or at least did when it was the least convenient for Caine. Better to hide what he could from the woman, at least until she changed once the child was born. Her focus would be their son and she'd finally allow him to lead their small, but growing, family. The first of his children, but not the last - even if he had to choose a different woman to bring the rest into this world. Would a child born of a turned woman be as strong as one born of Lilith? He frowned at the thought - the only way to be certain was to get another child on Lilith and one on a turned woman so he could watch them grow together. It would be an interesting experiment, one he was quite willing to attempt.

Their son would be different though. Born of their union, a strong son to bring light and joy to their bond. Born with their shared power, brought into the world with all the blessings of their kind, and none of the weaknesses of Adam's children. Their son would rule not just their family, but the world - and there was nothing Adam or his line could do to prevent it.

His jaw clenched at the thought of his father. Still alive and no doubt angry with him for killing Abel. That was an action his parents would never forgive him for - though he'd never been foolish enough to return home and ask them for himself. What would happen if he tried? Was there a chance he'd be accepted, forgiven and welcomed home?

No. What I did... in killing Abel... they'll never forgive me for that.

It didn't matter now, he wasn't like them anymore. Caine swallowed a growl and rolled out his shoulders in an attempt to hide the tension that tightened his back. He'd been marked and changed - and he'd embraced this change with open arms. Their God, their beliefs were no longer a part of his life and forgiveness - no, he wanted nothing from them especially their worthless forgiveness. They had other children, and grandchildren now - perhaps great-grandchildren and more, they didn't need or want him.

If he even attempted to approach the tribes of Adam openly, they'd try to kill him and his new family. Not a risk he could take. Besides, what good would it do him? Their blood - it was weak, lacked taste and although he could live on it - it left him, and those like him, wanting. Those with magic in their blood, however, left him satisfied, but hunting them down wasn't easy.

I will protect them, all of them and I'll find a way to provide for them. Lilith will come to accept my leadership once I prove to her that she can lean on me in all things. He glanced at his wife and smiled. Soon he would smile down at his own child, a son, strong and handsome, ready to take on the world but first he needed to survive the birth.

"Tired," Lilith murmured.

"You can't give birth out here," he frowned. The risk to the child increased if they didn't find a safe place for the arrival. The weight of time pressed down, threatening to consume him until he shook it off. I won't fail, not in this. My child will be safe. Even if it costs me Lilith, my child will survive. He didn't need anything else, now that he had successfully turned a few of Adam's line. Not all of them had survived, but enough that he knew that he could manage without her.

No, I don't want to lose her, not yet at least. She could change, accept me, and then we will be stronger.

Lilith rubbed one hand against the small of her back. Smudges of dirt marred her hands and cheeks, and dirt had buried itself under her fingernails. "Agreed, we need a place to rest, to call home." She offered a small smile marred by deep lines of weariness around her eyes and across her pale brow. "I don't think I can go on without resting. At least, not now."

Was carrying a child really so tiring? Women were designed to carry children, surely this should be a natural process for them. He forced himself to look at her face and acknowledge the changes that had taken place over the past few months. Dirt, shadows and strain that marred her otherwise beautiful features. Lilith didn't let herself get this way, not normally. She bathed, frequently. Kept her head held high and didn't show her weaknesses.

Until now.

"Do you need to feed?" Providing for her, that was one of the things he could, and would, do for her - even if she protested. "I can bring you something." Instincts warred between the need to protect his mate, and the need to find a place for them to rest, to call home for a time. Perhaps something more permanent than a handful of nights?

A home. We need a true home. A place where I can protect the young and the rest of the family. A place where I can establish my rights to lead this family.

With a small groan Lilith eased down onto the ground, her long, dark hair slipping loose from the simple braid. "Yes... thank you. That would help right now. I'm wearier than I ever thought possible." She closed her eyes and rested against the trunk of a large tree. "I never realized that carrying a child would be so tiring, or painful." She winced and pressed one hand against the swollen mound. "I swear this one is ready to kick it's way out."

"Do you need blood or...?" Blood didn't answer all needs, but he presumed that would be the answer. Still, pregnant females were known to make strange choices when it came to food and drink.

"I'll need blood within a day or two, but until then fruit - something sweet and ripe..." Lilith lifted her gaze for a moment before lowering it once more. Dark hair slipped down over her eyes, but it did little to hide the shadows under her eyes or the way her skin pulled tight against her skull. "It should help. At least, I think it will."

Odd, when she'd first turned him, the idea of eating something had repulsed him. The need for blood had consumed him, driving his every movement, but that had passed and now - like Lilith and the few others they had turned - he ate normal food. His need for blood dictated by how hard he worked, or dealing with an injury. He didn't understand entirely how it worked, but had come to accept it - still, her choice was an odd one. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, a loose strand of night dark hair slid down over her left eye at the movement. "Yes, fruit - the child requires fruit."

"Then I'll find some for you," he searched through the trees until one of the males that Lilith had turned, caught his gaze. "Mikel, stay with her."

"Of course," Mikel eased close, his steps near silent despite the heavy fall that littered the forest floor. "I'll keep them safe," he nodded in the direction of Lilith's swollen belly.

"Good." If Mikel failed then he would die, that much was understood between the pair of them. He turned his attention back to Lilith. "I won't be long, wife."

A small twitch, little more than the flicker of a frown combined with the shifting of weight from one foot to the other, was the only sign of disapproval from Mikel. No doubt at the lack of tenderness in Caine's words and tone. Not that the male's approval mattered to Caine, Mikel was, after all, sworn to Lilith because his mate had turned him.

Without another word he turned, moving through the trees at a steady jog. Fruit, his wife wanted fruit, then he would find some and bring it to her. Apples perhaps, or berries of some kind, both should have been easy enough to find at this time of the year. The small wild grape vines were common place in such landscapes. It would be a small thing to bring to his wife but if it helped her through the final stages of her pregnancy, then it was worth a hunt through the forest if only to prove to the others in their small group that he was capable of taking care of his wife.

How long he hunted before he found the strong and heavy vine, Caine couldn't say, but the sight of the small blueish purple fruit hanging in bundles across the length of the vine drew a sigh of relief from his pursed lips. He glanced up through the trees, tracking the passage of the sun across the sky. Foolish, it shouldn't have taken him this long to find food for his wife - now she would have something to complain about when he returned with the grapes. With a low snarl he gathered the grapes, piling them into a make shift sack of cured leather before he bound the top with sinew and straightened up once more.

A sound, little more than a whisper, drew his attention away from the vine.

Long of hair, and longer of limb, the form moved through the trees, her steps light and carefree as she ran. He set the bag down, letting his attention be drawn by the female who ran through the forest, darting first this way and then that, circling a large tree even as she reached out and touched a younger tree with the tips of her fingers.

What is she? Not a daughter of Eve, of that he was certain. The scent, and it grew stronger the closer she came to him, spoke of water, fresh running water and what she wore, which was little enough, rippled and clung to her form, calling to him as his cock hardened, balls tightening to press against the base of his erection.

Nymph? The fresh scent, the ripple, those spoke of fast running water as it moved over rocks and pebbles, dancing and singing in the sunlight.

"Prey," he murmured, his voice low enough that he knew the Nymph wouldn't hear him. Pretty prey that would take the edge off two hungers. Lilith wouldn't like it. She'd complain about the length of time he was gone, would say he was forgetting his duty to her and those he'd left behind - but as long as he brought the grapes back to her then what right did she have to nag him?

Weren't women supposed to be meek, mild and submissive? Wasn't it his right to do as he wished, when he wished, with no woman to tell him when, where and how? His jaw clenched. Lilith refused to accept the rules, fought him every step of the way, and even with the coming birth she'd remained stubbornly set in her ways.

Any thoughts he had about his pregnant mate, and the promise to bring her something to eat, faded as he shifted his weight and slowly moved through the trees until he found a place where he could watch the female. His nostrils flared as he took in her scent, tasting the magic and sex that combined to shroud the beautiful creature.

The woman laughed, the sound carrying through the air as she reached up and caught a low branch of an old, moss covered tree. He didn't move, couldn't move as he watched her. The way she moved, the sway of her hips and the play of her hair as it slid back and forth over her back. Blue, white, dark and light all rolled into one, he'd never seen such a mix of colors in hair, and her skin - dappled light and color rippled across her exposed flesh.

He'd have her, claim her, taste her blood and body both.

With a low growl he stepped out, moving from the shelter of the trees. Desire owned his steps and heat moved through his body as he watched her. She paused, turning toward him, her eyes widening in shock and knowledge. For a moment he assumed she'd run, and he relished the idea of the chase but it vanished in an instant.

The Nymph turned to face him, pushing her shoulders back, her full breasts pressing against the soft caress of the fabric that barely covered her enticing form. A smile claimed her sensual lips, light dancing in her eyes as she lifted one hand up, beckoning to him.

"Come to me."

Did she think him the prey? If so it would make this moment all the easier for him. It wouldn't be the first time one with magic in their blood had made such a mistake as his kind was still virtually unheard of. Their hunts were done with care, leaving little or no trace behind them, memories wiped, and those who were turned were reminded to never returning to their families.

Beautiful - and mine. Mine by right and there's nothing Lilith can do to stop me this time.

Rights takes place afterRebirth

Serving Thanatos

Artwork by Samuel Pray, using Daz 3rd, Filter Forge and Photoshop.

Tyme RPG setting - Science Fiction/Space Opera.

"Lock it down!"

"Trying to!" Nike growled, her jaw set. She hadn't signed on for this, but she wasn't about to let this one slip through her fingers. Not when she had the best system on the planet to play with and wouldn't be able to use the excuse of not having access to the right tools. "Trace is being bounced all over existence. Every time I think I've got it figured out, it jumps to a new location." She glared at the screen, her fingers dancing over the controls. Every time she came close, the signal fluttered and died, only to resurface somewhere else. Except it wasn't quite what was happening. A jump. A careful move to avoid being trapped. Even with the system, one she'd all but drooled over the first time she'd seen it, at her fingertips, she was barely able to keep up with the target. "Tricky, tricky bastard."

"Try harder." Drake leaned in, his voice pitched low, soft and dangerous. Under different circumstances she might have found Drake interesting, the type of man she'd have given a second, perhaps even third look, before moving onto someone else. But at the end of the day he wasn't her type. "We're relying on you." Oh, she knew what that meant. Fail and her sentence would be increased. Fail and she'd be the one blamed for losing the traitor. Fail and... fuck it, she didn't need this shit. "You're losing him again." Drake rested one hand on her left shoulder.

"Then back off and let me do my damned job." She shrugged off his touch. What did he think touching her would do? Give her super powers so she could track this little shit down? Yeah - no. That wasn't how it worked. "I've got this. Just need a little longer. That's not going to happen with you trying to cop a feel." Easy words to say, harder to do. She wanted to lash out at him, to tell him to do it himself, but her focus had to be on the search. Had to be on the signal. Her eyes narrowed, breath sharp through clenched teeth. "There - shit, almost got him." So close. She hadn't expected that move, though she should have done. Whoever was behind the transmission was both smart and fast.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, her gaze never moving from the information that crawled across her screen.

A low sound, a huff of frustration, and Drake stepped back. "I didn't cop a feel. This is Thanatos, not Ontour." Another three steps and muttered complaints that she didn't quite catch before he spoke clearly again. "I don't pull shit like that."

Fine, maybe that had been unfair but at least it had forced the man to back off.

Damned traitor. Whatever I did, I didn't betray our people. I didn't turn to the Raiders and offer them our secrets. Not that she'd had any secrets like that to sell, but it was the principle of the thing. Whatever Drake continued to mutter about, wasn't something she could afford to focus on. "By Thanatos I'll find that bastard if it's the last thing I do." Anyone who sold out their tech deserved a traitor's death. One who sold it to the damned Raiders needed to die a hundred times over. The Raiders - she'd been through one round of living under the control of those people, never again. It was a feeling she knew was shared across the face of the planet and yet one of her own, one of their people, had sold them out.

"Calm and focus on the job, Nike." His voice calmer now, lacking the edge that had sliced through the air moments before. "You're the best at this, it's why we called you in. Don't think about the others in the room, or what's going on beyond this place, focus only on the target."

"Called me in. Sure. Keep thinking that's how it worked." A slight smile twitched at her lips. The temptation to look back over her shoulder niggled at her, but she ignored it. Dragged her in, out of a warm cot, and a decent dream. Not like she'd been given anything more than a cell like room, with a bed, a door, and - yeah - that was it. No computer, no access, nothing that could be used to break the terms of her sentence. Access to computers, to the system, was strictly monitored and would be long after her sentence was over and done with.

"We have to get this guy, Nike. He's already sold out some of our top military secrets and we're relying on you to put an end to this."

"Yeah, I know." There was nothing like a mountain's weight of pressure pushing down on her shoulders to encourage a girl. She bit back a growl and tried another set of tracking codes. Warnings flashed across the screen and she snorted. Whoever this was - he was good, damned good. Where in the name of Hades had he learned his skills? Not Thanatos, or anywhere in System One, that much she was certain of, but there was something familiar about the way he was keeping himself just out of reach. Something she wasn't quite able to put her finger on. "Sneaky bloody bastard. He's jumping - seems random but..." there was always a pattern. Human, computer, alien, combination, it didn't matter, there was always a pattern. All she had to do was find it. "It's not... I know it's not. Just a little longer - that's all I need." Thanatos save her, if he dropped out of the system before she completed the track then...

No, she wasn't going to think like that.

The job. She had to focus on the job and the traitor. Her sentence had her serving the greater good of Thanatos, that was what the magistrate had said and a part of her even believed it.

A sound. Door opening and closing behind and to the left of her.

"Any luck?" A female voice this time. Soft, eager and not one she knew. "We need to cut off the flow of information to the Raiders."

"Not yet, but she's getting closer. Nike is the best we have."

Nike snorted. Best they had indeed. Best they had access to was more like it. There were others out there who put her skills to shame, not that she was about to tell them that. And it wasn't like she'd signed up for this crap. Being hauled in front of the magistrate and given a choice of a year of hard labor, or a year service to the Queen hadn't been that difficult a choice to make. Would they throw her onto a ship and send her to the penal colony if she failed to pin down the traitor's location?

No, that wasn't like the Magistrate. Nor would the Queen permit it. At least Nike hoped she wouldn't. There'd be a new hearing and - and what? Her term would be extended? No, she was overthinking this. Just because she'd agreed to the contract it didn't mean they could demand the impossible.

"If she fails there'll be hell to pay. We have to cut off the flow of information to the Raiders."

"Give her a little longer," Drake insisted.

She watched the screen, fingers moving over the controls, her mind filling in the gaps until it fell into place. A fraction of a second before her opponent made their next step, she was on them, locking down the location. "Got you!"

Movement ceased behind her but she didn't look.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." Nike cried out, confirming the information, a grin claiming her face. "Not going to break free of me now!" She jabbed one finger down on the enter key and screamed. "You're mine now!" Only then did she finally look back at the small, but growing group, that watched her every move. "Janos, they're in the university of Janos, station six, language lab, log on information confirmed and the data chip should be ready..." her station spat out the chip, "now." She snatched up the chip and tossed it over her shoulder, not bothering to check to see if someone was ready to catch it. If they didn't, well, she'd hear the scrambling to grab it when it hit the floor.

The tension eased from her shoulders. Her part in the job was over and done with. If luck was with her, she'd be escorted back to the transport and returned to her quarters - behind the thick walls and locked doors of the military compound - within an hour, two at the most.

"We've been trying to track this bastard down for over a month, what makes you think that this - this criminal is capable of doing what we couldn't?"

"She's..."

"The best, yes - you've said. But would the best be truly so easily caught the way she was?" The cold, unfamiliar, female voice inquired. "Such a truly talented hacker would have covered her tracks, no?"

"I. Did." Nike turned away from the screen, her task there completed.

"Then how were you caught?" A tall, dark haired woman, with touches of iron grey in her hair, arched a thin eyebrow.

"I was betrayed." The words threatened to stick in the back of her throat. Nike let her gaze move slowly around the busy room. Six people, two women, four men, apart from herself, were scattered through the room. Drake and the newcomer were the only two standing, the rest worked at terminals and pretended - for the most part - to be busy with their work. She wasn't buying it. This was entertainment for them. "I'm not sloppy enough to get caught any other way."

"So you claim," the woman snorted, her nostrils flaring. "It wouldn't take much digging to find out what really happened - I'm not impressed."

"Commander Lianer, the reports confirm that Nike was turned in. Or rather her arrest was triggered by information received by the cyber-crimes department." Drake explained, his tone firm though a smile pulled at his full lips. "The sister of an ex-lover, I believe." He clasped his hands behind his back, shoulders pushed back, chin lifted slightly. His jet black hair was cropped close to his scalp, drawing attention to the high cheekbones and full lips that clashed with the current stern set to his features.

Idiot, the sister was the ex-lover.

She'd tried explaining that several times, but people heard what they wanted to hear. Not that there was anything wrong with having a same sex lover - not by the laws or customs of Thanatos. She'd never hidden the fact that she fell in love with the person, not the gender. Trouble was, her lover's brother had tried to claim that he'd been the bed mate, not his sister.

The lie had stuck.

"Ah, love - a dangerous thing even if it's nothing more than a shared passion in bed." Commander Lianer smoothed her hands down her black and silver uniform pants. "Not a mistake I plan on making anytime soon."

Because you have no passion to share.

Nike bit down on the urge to yell at the Commander. It wouldn't help.

"We've got eyes on the traitor, security forces are closing in on him now." A male voice, this time from a station to the far back and right of the room. "Shit, he's not going quietly. Armed. Response team hit. Back-up moving in. He's down. Repeat, he's down."

Down? Dead or something else? Not that it mattered these days. Not her problem. Except the man was a traitor. Whatever happened to him, he deserved it. Once they had all of the proof, he'd be executed. Maybe publicly, maybe not. The traitor would die, and anyone working with him would die, Thanatos would have his due and then...

"An interesting show, but I believe I've seen enough. If you're finished with her, you'll release Kiera Nike into my custody." Commander Lianer's words cut through Nike's thoughts. "I have the release forms here, and she'll serve with my unit from this point on."

Nike blinked, her throat drying out before she could speak.

"What? When did this happen?" Drake held his left hand out for the sheet of paper, his fingers closing on the document as soon as it was within reach. He frowned and looked down at the documentation, reading it through twice at least twice before he continued. "This can't be right. You can't just take her and extend her sentence like that. Not without a court ruling."

"Not my call, but I'm not about to turn down the added resources that Nike brings with her." A cold chuckle followed the words. "She's not without talent and those will be put to use in the coming months. This hacker is only the tip of the iceberg, and I'll be coordinating with several off world teams."

A strangled protest that turned into a rapid cough rang out from one of the operators at the far end of the room. A harsh whisper, questions darted back and forth across the room, ignored by the Drake and Lianer for the most part.

Would one of them speak out, say something outside of the room? It was a slender hope but Nike doubted it. Too much of a risk if they wanted a long term career.

Nike swallowed hard and pushed slowly to her feet. "What do you mean, extend my sentence?" It was one thing to listen to the fears, to believe - under stress - that something like this could happen. The reality was another matter entirely. Tension rippled through her body, raising goose flesh in its wake. "I made my agreement. I was to serve one year, that was it. A year." Her heart raced, beating so loud that she was surprised that no one else could hear it. "My time is up in less than two months."

"Her sentence hasn't been extended, exactly. You're right, the courts would have to be the ones to extend your sentence, and that would require new charges." Lianer smirked and nodded to the papers. "If you read that last paragraph it clears everything up. I'm sure, given recent events, you'll understand why you're needed."

"Special circumstances," Drake choked and met her gaze, finally looking away from the paperwork before he passed them to Nike.

She let her fingers close around the sheet even as she fought the urge to scream. Words danced across her vision and it took five attempts before the pieces fell into place. Cold sweat beaded across her brow even as her knees threatened to buckle. No. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of passing out. At least not in front of witnesses. "I've been... drafted."

"Into the service of Thanatos," Lianer cast a triumphant look around the room, "with full pay and all benefits except one."

The ability to quit...

Chosen

Art by Samuel Pray, created using Daz, PS, and Filter Forge

Chosen, an Erien setting story

She’s gone.

Wind rippled a path through the trees carrying the news. Branches creaked, adding their own voices to the grief brought by the announcement. The song of the forest changed, bird song stopped and then began again, changing from soft music to the sudden alert calls that brought every creature within hearing range to a sudden stop.

Pain wrapped itself around his heart and tightened into a band.

He scowled, uncertain at first why the band was there. He wasn’t human, wasn’t even mortal, so this shouldn’t happen to him. He looked, slowly, through the trees, listening to the bird calls but only animals and birds remained within range. If there were humans, elves, dwarves, or even dragons, they were well beyond his immediate hunting range.

A flicker of something touched the edge of his senses and he smiled. Dryads. Bound to their trees, beautiful and long lived, they were neither human nor elven kind, not truly of the Fae but something graceful, delicious and his choice when it came to bed mates. Elegant and eager bed mates, even if they tried to entrance him every single time. They knew, of course, that it wouldn’t work but they still tried.

The woman he’d chosen had reminded him of the dryads in some ways – had there been a touch of their blood in her veins? Odd, he hadn’t thought to ask when she’d still lived. Nor had he taken her to his bed. Oh, he’d been tempted and her stubborn defiance had intrigued him but he’d never taken more than a single kiss from her full lips.

She’d fought the kiss, growling at him even as her fists had clenched for a blow she would never land. He’d laughed, caught her hand and warned her not to offer such temptation his way again. She’d listened, she’d learned, and although she’d listened the temptation of her lips and her body had remained, even though he’d restrained himself.

Now he would never know what she would have done if he’d taken more than her lips.

Hazel eyes, flecked with hints of gold. A beautiful smile and a wild nature. Those things had all called to him when she’d first stumbled into his path. Human mixed with elf, a Fae nature with a natural grasp of the way of the hunt.

Fearless.

And now she was dead.

The band around his heart tightened a little more.

“How… strange.” Emotions? Regret? Pain? These were things that weren’t a part of his normal day, at least not like this. Yes, he would miss his chosen, but enough to grieve? To feel such emotions? No, that didn’t make sense to him. The woman, a human woman, had been the first to be called by him, the first one he had chosen as his own, to serve him and now…

Mortals died. He knew that, accepted that, that was a part of their nature. He’d marked her knowing that she would die, knowing that she would be gone before he knew it and yet it hurt. Her lips, he should have done more than take a single taste of her lips. At least then he’d have something to remember. He might even have sired a child on the human – others in the pantheon had done such.

Accept it and move on. She’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Isn’t that what mortals tried to do? He growled, shook his head, turned and walked deeper into the forest. This is where he belonged. Away from mortals and the problems they brought. One mortal, only one, at any given time would be allowed into his world and even that had been a mistake.

Yes, of course, he’d made a mistake in letting even one human know who he was. Breeding with a mortal would have made matters worse. The first step in splitting his personality like his parents had done before him.

His jaw tightened as he stalked through the trees, drawn by the distant sounds of the dryads at play.

The pantheon. If mortals ever understood what had happened, then chaos would run rampant across the realms of Erien. They didn’t know. Not a single suspicion flickered across their thoughts. He was certain of that because even his parents – the pantheon – didn’t suspect. How could they when…

A soft giggle carried through the trees, dismissing his thoughts of the pantheon – at least for the time being.

He stopped, lifting his gaze as he inhaled deeply. Not dryads – the sound was too childlike in nature. Interesting. He hadn’t heard them this close to his home in a long time. Yet there it was again, the undeniable sound of the sprites. Laughter, innocent and carefree, carried through the air to him, calling him away from the dryads. The sprites weren’t creatures that he would sate his sexual needs with – no, the idea of doing so sickened him. They were innocent, taking on the forms of children in near immortal bodies, but that same innocence offered a chance for his heart to heal.

Gigglers.

The name had amused him the first time he’d heard it. Elven children – yes, those had been the ones to name the sprites. The name fit. The sprites giggled, a lot. Practical jokes, mostly harmless in nature, were a part of their lives. He’d watched them, enjoyed their play, and even been on the receiving end of one or two of their jokes.

The laughter spiked, a dozen voices joined as one as he drew closer to the source of the noise.

Movement caught his eyes. Green skinned, childlike forms, dressed in leaves, dirt and scraps of cloth, darted through the trees, tossing a ball of woven weeds back and forth. They darted, their movements random at first but the pattern appeared as he watched. A game of ball toss and laughter.

He lingered in the deepening shadows cast by the ancient trees. They didn’t see him. Couldn’t smell him. He didn’t move any closer to them, content – for now – to watch them play. Like this he could forget, could pretend that the band wasn’t there, he could think about other things instead of the loss of his chosen one.

Soon enough they drifted away, moving through the trees, content with their games and the band returned to press around his heart.

There were others he could reveal himself to. Ones he might be able to trust with his touch, his gift, but wouldn’t they also die? Mortals left this world all too soon and then what? More pain?

Pain, it’s part of the experience, isn’t it? Something the others turn their back on.

Is that why he’d chosen one to know him? To experience the pain, the joy, all of the emotions that were tied into mortal lives.

The pantheon had taken it too far. Each time one of their believers took a different path, they’d split, multiplied again, and what had started out as a god and goddess, his parents, had become – at last count – over a hundred gods and goddesses, each answering to a different call, a sect of dedicated worshippers, fulfilling their needs, hungers and prayers.

He’d watched it, seen the splits, the formation of new personalities, sects, beliefs and more.

They didn’t listen, not even when I told them what was happening. All they cared about was the power.

Power, yes, he’d sensed the power that groups of believers brought to the pantheon. But at what price? Sanity – he’d seen nothing but the occasional glimmer of that in the last millennium or two. The original personalities that he still knew as his parents were the most stable of the pantheon, but that wasn’t saying much.

His sister had come close to making the same mistake – except she’d split into three, each aware of the other, becoming the Three Fold Lady. Those sworn to her knew she was three in one, she understood she was three in one and she had claimed a family line to watch over, one line to focus on even though she listened to the needs of many. She’d found a path to walk, but the rest of the pantheon continued to grow and split as new voices reached out to them.

Did they feel the loss of each and every one of their worshippers, or was it different when they listened to the voices of the many instead of the one?

One. That’s all he needed, one chosen mortal to answer his need and to be his voice out in the world. His chosen, his one, was gone but where there had been one there would be another who would enter the forests to seek him out.

The Master of the Hunt lifted his head and smile, tasting the scents on the air. The grief would remain, but in time it would ease and become a part of him. Each new soul, new chosen one would add to it, teaching him a little more about the world beyond the forests, introducing him to new hunts, new prey but there would only ever be one.

One chosen.

One hunter.

His one.

Revenge

Image legally purchased from dollarphoto.

Shadow Sprawl Setting - this story takes place after Alpha and can be read as a stand alone.

His gaze narrowed on the small group as they moved through the valley. Dust lifted into the air in the wake of their passage. Soft noises carried on the air to his hiding place, footsteps, the creak of the wagon, a soft female voice mixed with a stronger male one. Six, maybe seven males in total, unless there were more hidden within the wagon? He inhaled deeply, trying to taste the various scents but they were too far away to be certain. The males would be the problem. They’d have to be disabled or killed if the raid was to be a success but it was worth it. There were females of a mateable age amongst the group, perhaps five of them, and that was all that mattered to him.

No, not all. There is so much more to it than taking a mate.

His fingers curled into the dirt, knuckles white as he forced himself to exhale slowly. Yes, okay, this was personal. He could lie to himself and pretend otherwise, but that was the action of a fool. He growled, shaking off the need to strike, to destroy the guards and rip the males apart. The females, they were the important part. He couldn’t start his own pack without the right females in the mix, and the ones with the potential had been rounded up, kept ‘safe’ behind city walls. But these – they hadn’t entered the city yet, they hadn’t been claimed, merely collected ready to find a mate. Where they willing potentials? He neither knew nor cared. Etruscan females, at least that was his guess, and as such they were spoils of war.

Spoils that offered him a chance to add to his pack. Each new member of his small pack would be a victory that his uncle could choke on.

Small, that was one word for it. Three didn’t exactly make a real pack, but it was a start, one he could build on. No, not could – would. Two males had joined him after being cast out of the city, and more would follow soon enough. His jaw tightened at the thought. Any who were unwilling to follow the unreasonable laws set by Romulus and his followers were given two choices. Die before the crowd – a quick and apparently painless death, or leave and never return. Most chose death – as life without the possibility of a mate was simply a slower death. Without a female, without the chance of bringing new wolves into the world, the option of life didn’t appeal to them.

He fought to keep back another growl. Too much noise and he’d alert the males guarding the cart to his presence. Something he wasn’t quite ready for. Bold he might be, stupid – however – was another matter.

He smiled and edged back, away from the lookout he’d taken control of for the time being. He didn’t rush, the wrong move would send a warning sound or lifting of dust into the air. He made his way carefully down from the heights, past exposed rock and small bushes until he reached the high valley with its lusher vegetation. The two males who had sworn to him were waiting, eagerness ripping through them in the small shifts of weight, the looks the shot in the direction of the route their targets used.

He couldn’t blame them. The drive to mate, to claim a female, drove them. He had sated his needs with non-compatible females before now and that had eased his sexual needs, but not the hunger to mate. Children, a future, he needed both and needed to keep them safe. Two, maybe three mates – one alpha perhaps, but the others would be betas. The more females he brought into the pack, the higher the chance of survival.

“How do you know the females are of use to us, Lotu?” The smaller of the males tipped his head, unconsciously exposing his throat. “They could be little more than slaves instead of breeders or worse. Taking the wrong type of female would be…”

“They wouldn’t waste their time bringing in females who couldn’t add to the pack, Acteon.” Lotu forced his voice to remain calm. That the females might be bait had crossed his mind, but he’d dismissed that idea. Too much time and effort had been put into collecting the women. Besides, he’d know for certain when he drew closer to the females. Like his father before him he knew, by scent alone, if a female would offer a new bloodline to the pack.

His father.

Anger rippled through him. Romulus had torn away any chance of Lotu knowing his father in person. He’d cheated, his mother had told him that much, tricked Remus during the fight – it was, after all, the only way that Romulus could have beaten his father. All of the stories, the tales of his father fighting, hunting, and shifting. Remus had been the stronger of the twins, powerful and fast. A man who knew his abilities and not one that a weaker brother should have been able to bring down.

Yet it had happened.

Uncle, you think you killed his line. Destroyed it by killing him. I’ll prove you wrong. I’ll stand over your body as the light leaves your eyes and then I’ll tell you who I am.

One day he would avenge that death in the only way that truly mattered, by killing Romulus and taking the pack for his own. Only then would Romulus realize that the other line, that the line of Remus, hadn’t been wiped out. That his uncle’s plan to be the only one fathering new wolf shifters had failed. One male, that’s all it took, one male and the line continued.

“Will you rescue your sisters one day?” The second male inquired, his head slightly bowed. “Or will you leave them behind the walls?”

“They’re dead, Maris.” Lotu snarled, baring his teeth at Maris. His wolf snarled at the controls that prevented him from breaking free. Blood. His wolf wanted blood, flesh that he could sink his claws and teeth into. Soon, you can have that but you need to wait a little longer. “I don’t need to hear those lies again. He killed both of them when he killed my father.” The stories were lies. He knew it. They knew it. Yet they dared to repeat them in his hearing. Dead. They were both dead. Just as his mother was now dead, and his father. He was the only one left of that line. The true line.

Alpha line.

“I-I’m sorry. I just – Romulu…”

“The Tyrant.” Lotu snapped, taking a half step toward Maris. “He is a tyrant and will be named as such.” Names had power, made his uncle human, perhaps even likable. No, that wasn’t a mistake he would make. “He has punished our people, made them suffer and trapped them behind walls when they should be running free, controlling their pack lands and bringing the others, those not touched by the gods, under their hand. Instead he teaches them to be meek and civilized.”

Wolves hunted. They claimed territory. They didn’t back down to those who threatened their land. Nor did they hide behind walls.

“We know. Sorry, Lotu.” Maris bared his throat but kept his gaze lowered. “You are our Alpha and we’ll follow you as such. Your pack. Your rules.”

At least one of them had learned the rules. Newcomers would have to do the same thing, they’d accept who was in charge, or he’d remove them from the pack.

“We’re wasting time. They’ll reach the stream soon, if we’re not in position, we’ll miss the ambush point.”

Neither male spoke, but instantly fell into place as he turned and silently jogged along the barely there trail to the point he’d picked out two days earlier. Height, they’d have the height to spring the ambush the cart and its guards. They were outnumbered, but he was the better warrior. Even a dozen of his Uncle’s men wouldn’t be enough to defeat him.

They’re weaker, caught in the lies that form behind the walls.

He wanted to believe that, but his instincts said otherwise. No wolf would be easy to take, not even an omega. They would fight. Perhaps in human form, but more likely in half shifted or full wolf form.

“They won’t give up their prizes easily,” Maris pitched his voice low, but didn’t make the mistake of whispering. Any hunter knew that a whisper would carry further than a low voice.

“I know.” He glanced back at Maris. The male had potential as a second, but only time would tell if the male would betray him or truly step up to be the beta that a pack needed. “Silence from here on in.” He glanced back at Acteon to make sure that the third member of the group had heard him.

They settled into the heights long enough that the birds began to sing once more before the cart and guards came into view. Not a single sound of warning called out to alert their target. His focus narrowed. Nothing mattered beyond the cart and the males guarding it.

Soft crunching sounds carried through the air before the cart and guards appeared. Hooves that broke through heat crusted dirt. Low voices, conversation exchanged between the males. He frowned, listening – no tension, no hint of concern – too confident. Did they know something that he didn’t? His gaze narrowed, every small movement that his enemies made was taken into account as they drew closer. Two, maybe three of the guards cast glances up into the heights, but the others continued their conversations, their swaggering pace screaming their arrogance with each new step.

Now!

As one the three moved, shifting from human to full wolf form within a matter of heartbeats. Rock tumbled down with them, dust kicked up into the air and mingled with the alert cries from birds – but it wouldn’t be enough of a warning to save their enemies.

“Guard the…” the words were cut off by a strangled scream.

Swords cleared leather, bronze catching in the sun light, but only one of the guards thought to shift. Lotu launched himself at the man, hitting him in mid shift, his teeth closing around a throat. Blood filled his mouth, hot and salt heavy it threatened to choke Lotu until his instincts kicked in and he swallowed.

Food.

No, not food. Not prey. Enemy.

The wolf snarled but agreed. You didn’t eat pack. You didn’t eat another wolf unless your cubs were starving. Even in this form he knew that, accepted it, and only had to struggle against the taste of the warm blood for a heartbeat. He ripped in, tearing, before he pulled back and released the piece of warm, blood soaked, still quivering flesh. Wolf or not the guard wouldn’t be able to survive that. With a growl he turned, using his back legs to bounce back before he sprang at the next male.

Screams, some male, some female, filled the air. Wolf snarls, growls, warning snaps that told him his companions were still alive, still fighting, merged with the screams. Another guard, then another, fell beneath his teeth until he finally stumbled back and shifted into human form, scanning the area for the next target.

Two enemy males left on their feet, both smeared with blood, limping, moving stiffly, unsteady, swords in hand. One had half shifted, the other hadn’t bothered, Lotu’s focus narrowed on the one who had part shifted. He was the dangerous one. “Look at me,” he snarled, the sound low and dangerous, his weight shifted onto the balls of his feet.

The male bared his teeth but turned slightly, locking his gaze with Lotu. His jaw and teeth had taken on wolf like features, his hands were now claws, and fur covered his body beneath the shredded remains of cloth. “What is it you want…who… you’re not from the city.” The male stumbled over the words, attempting to form them with a mouth not suited for speech.

Lotu grinned. “No, I’m not one of his weak minded pups.”

The male’s shoulders tensed, his body shifting, weight moving forward but although his posture screamed attack, he didn’t take that next step. Not immediately at least. “We are not weak minded. We follow our Alpha, the one chosen to lead us. He is our father, our leader and…”

“Did he sire you?” There weren’t many males who could shift, and now that Lotu could taste their scents, this male was the only one among them who was a true Wolf. The others were only potentials, males who might be able to sire a Wolf if they mated with the right female.

“What? Yes… he sired me.” The male tipped up his chin.

Just as Romulus had sired the two males who had left the city and chosen to stay with Lotu. There were others now, not sired by Romulus, but their mother or father had been of his line. And those young shifters were children, babes not ready to fight to defend their city, or their pack. They weren’t his enemies – not yet at least.

He let his glance flicker to his pack members. A single nod and they moved. Screams, the scent of fresh blood and Lotu was left with only the half shifted male to deal with. “Check the wagon.”

His males grinned and darted for the covered wagon. Female screams this time, but not filled with pain – only fear. That would chance once the females began to realize that they would be safe. Protected by a pack that would never let a stranger touch them again. Spoils of war, yes, but his to protect and claim.

“And you obey him, without question.” Lotu took a step closer to the male as he turned his full attention back to the remaining male.

“He’s my Alpha.” The male snarled the words out. “But you – you don’t smell like – you’re not of his line.”

“No,” Loku looked down at his hands and focused, letting them shift from human form to long fingered, claw tipped half human, half wolf form.

“You – you smell… similar.”

“Family,” Lotu flexed his claws. “And you will tell him that I let you live. You will tell him that the line wasn’t destroyed.” He took a step forward, lashing out with his right hand. The male gasped, struggling even as Lotu closed his hand, his claws, around the male’s throat. “You will tell him that it’s not over – what my father began isn’t over.” He closed his grip a little more, feeling the frantic beat of the male’s pulse under his grip.

“I-I don’t…” the male scrabbled at Lotu’s grip, “understand.” Hazel eyes flecked with amber, widened. “No other… other lines exist.”

“He’ll understand. When you return to him and tell him what happened here. When you tell him that I’ve taken his new females, then he’ll know that the line of Remus survived.” There it was, the flicker of understanding that Lotu had been waiting for. With a sharp laugh he struck, his free hand closing into a fist in the moment before he struck the struggling male sharply in the temple.

A small thing, the claiming of what – he glanced over as his males pulled the women from the cart – five compatible females, but it was the first blow of what would be many before he finally ground his uncle down into the dust. Death – simple death – would be too quick. The destruction and absorption of the line of Romulus, leaving nothing behind but vague tales, would be the only true revenge worthy of his father’s name.

If you want to read Alpha and the connecting RPG information, it can be found as a bundle here.