I should not have stopped Aύok thought as the sounds of battle vanished from his heightened hearing. This was not supposed to be a skirmish. His control over the wolf slipped while he assumed its form.

Kill, feast, devour.

His primal thoughts roared at him. With a deep breath he pushed the thought away and ran faster, knowing the bulls would never catch him. The human intrigued him, but she was not worth a second thought compared to his goal. Already he was too careless, his years of work unraveling in a moment, all because he didn’t scout the area thoroughly enough to notice the minotaur force.

Aύok growled in frustration, his workforce forced to their death due to his lack of control over them.

His hidden sanctuary required workers to excavate the ancient buried city of his people so he could move his clan from the wasteland.

He should never have moved while the moon was still full, he knew better and the wolf’s urges were always the strongest right after being turned. His bite on a full moon transferred the blood of the wolf into its prey, making them loyal to the death. His sire bond on the newly turned humans was weak compared to the wolves’ primal hunger that consumed their thoughts.

Human minds have always been dominated by the wolf’s overpowering hunger, forcing Aύok to turn small villages every few months. His last village had finally become too primal, no longer capable of keeping their human form. They had rampaged the forest, killing every animal in the night to solidify their territory and fill their nearly endless hunger. The sire bond created between him and his thralls was strong and absolute. Knowing they would venture to nearby towns the next night, Aύok had sent a mental thought to the pack alpha. Forced to obey, the alpha slit the throats of his own people while they slept in their beds. After the village burned to the ground, the alpha pierced his heart with the same dagger while tears flowed from his eyes. Aύok knew the alpha’s mind was intact and aware of the murders he had committed, but he was unable to rebel against the command.

Killing the lesser races use to outrage and disgust him, but after centuries, the druid elf’s mind had changed and accepted the ruthlessness and aggression of the wolf. Aύok cared only for his clan, everything else was considered prey or fodder. Every bloody dark deed, every act of brutality he committed, was for his clan.

They would start again amongst the humans, creating an endless horde of blood, death and destruction to reclaim their land, freeing it from the lesser races.

Many of his brethren fought back against the blood curse, keeping the wolf at bay, their elven minds strong and free of darkness, while others willing were consumed, their minds now more beast than elf. Seeing his people lose themselves to rage and bloodlust forced Aύok to act. His lands had become a wasteland, devoid of life as his horde grew, destroying and devouring everything in its path. He needed to avoid the minotaur on their mountain, and he had failed.

Aύok created new thralls this night and the smell of human blood proved to be overwhelming. His sire bond was the weakest right at the turning, the curses’ irresistible urges to feast stronger. One of the mindless beasts ran off discovering the thousands of enslaved humans, calling out to its pack in excitement. Aύok’s new horde of lycan responded, ignoring his command, hunger over ruling his silent command.

Seeing the minotaur force Aύok was able to send one silent command which they greedily acknowledged with pleasure.

“Kill them all.”

He lost his surprise, and he needed the minotaur to be distracted long enough for his escape from this land.

Hours passed; his endurance stretched to its limit when he finally stopped before the sheer mountain wall. He peered from the shadows at the mining encampment ahead of him, the entrance fetid, human filth and iron mixing with halvras musk. His keen senses washed over the camp locating all of the guards and workers. Going to the base of an oak tree he reached into its hollow, removing a cloak covered it soot, old sweat and dried blood. It reeked, and his nostrils flared reflexively at its odor. Looking down at it in his clawed hand with distain, he knew it would mask his scent from the sensitive smell of the minotaur. He readied himself and his bones began to snap and crack, the pain now a numbing tingle from centuries of transforming between forms. His silver white hair receded and his armor began to shift, sliding into itself. His back straightened and his canine muzzle receded, his angular jaw replacing it with an ageless face. He kept his height and thick build, a boon of his curse which made his elven form faster and stronger.

Aύok stretched, forcing the last of the bones to finish their transformation and pulled on the foul cloak, its cowl hiding his face in a shadow. He covered his face with dirt to further hide his face from the keen minotaur sight. Content that he had his armor covered and his face concealed he hunched over, sagging his shoulders, making himself look no larger than a halvras miner.

Aύok limped from the shadows towards the guards at the caves entrance, adopting the look of a beaten worker. One of the minotaur guards looked up from the dice game and its nose creased in derision pointing to the rack of tools embedded in the rock wall.

“Be gone with your stench, and swiftly.” A guard said covering his nose, the other three mirroring the first.

“Fucking half breeds.” Another said throwing a stone at Aύok’s back as he reached for the pick. The stone hit his armor hidden under the cloak, the sound of metal ringing out.

“What was that?” Aύok heard another say.

Growling, his frustration of the night bloomed into rage and gathered inside him. He heard the guards unsheathing their swords as they approached. He gripped a second pick and the wooden handle groaned in protest from his strong grip. Turning with both picks in his hand, he stood tall, his shoulders rolled back to meet the gaze of the four minotaur guards approaching. They stopped in their tracks when he reached his true height.

He narrowed his eyes and looked down to meet the gaze of the confused pure bloods. One began to speak, but Aύok moved, the pick in his right hand hitting its target, punching through the thick hide with ease. He followed through, spinning and ripping the point from the throat of his first victim as the second pick pierced through the skull of another. His movements were fluid and with a speed the guards could not comprehend, their speed clunky and slow in comparison. One guard raised his blade, but the point of the pick was already slicing up and into the bottom of its muzzle, his eyes going cross eyed to see the bloody tip before he even felt the pain. The pick was torn from his muzzle, removing his lower jaw with it. As he fell back Aύok slammed both picks down hard into the napes of the last guard’s neck driving the beast to its knees. He ripped the picks viciously from the guard’s body and looked over the bleeding bodies. Two died instantly, the other two were bleeding out.

Devour and feast on the warmth of their blood

Aύok narrowed his eyes and approached the guard crawling away, its broken jaw to its side. He smashed the pick down hard, the point cutting through the back of the minotaur’s thigh and into the ground, pinning him in place as it tried to shout in pain, a sad mewling coming out instead.

Taste the fear of the weak, the terror of the wounded

Aύok breathed deep, the wolf inside him growling in anticipation. He brought the pick down, its point penetrating the back of the minotaur’s neck, its body shuddering one last time before falling still. Aύok stood up, glaring back at the last guard with dread in its eyes. Aύok left the pick in the guard’s neck and removed the one in its hamstring, staring down the kneeling lesser being.

“Please, I won’t say anything, just let me live.”

Only the strong survive the pack

Aύok’s attack arced from the side, the pick slamming hard into the side of its head, the point piercing through bone effortlessly, killing the worthless thing instantly. It fell to the ground, the pick lodged deep in its skull. Aύok looked down at the guards, the wolf inside satisfied with the bloodshed and fading from his thoughts.

He glanced around the camp, the humans and halvras were in the mine or in the stone buildings in the distance. He turned to the mine’s entrance, assuming his impersonation and limping into the darkness. With a thought a gray globe of dull light appeared from his hand shooting out into the darkness and hovering deep into the mine. Aύok glanced back to the mining shacks that held the miners and the guard tower in the middle then his eyes soaked in the forest and open fields in the distance.

“This land will be ours again brother.” Aύok whispered to himself as he turned back to follow the dull orb deeper into the darkness.

~

“You heard the lord, cut the tree down.” A voiced barked. Anula’s mind raced through her options as the tree began to shudder. She looked down to see a pure blood cutting deep into the tree with his axe. With each hit, she thought about being delivered to Draxz, unable to fight or resist him.

“I’m coming down!” Anula shouted; her mind roaring in protest. When she didn’t feel the tree move again, she glanced down to see a pure blood looking up to her, his axe still in the tree from the last hit. Her descent was slow, feeling defeated. When she jumped off the last branch and hit the ground she was surrounded by half bulls. Past them were the minotaur soldiers standing in a straight line. Goren stopped walking and half turned with one dark yellow eye gliding over her.

“Chain it.” Goren said walking away.

Cold steel clasped around her wrists with chains connecting to collars around two half-bulls smelling of blood, gore and feces. She passed dead bodies of half breeds and lycans covering the forest floor. Surviving minotaur were busy decapitating the dead and placing them in piles. Anula could smell burning flesh and watched black smoke rise from piles of bodies that were set ablaze. Humans were being checked thoroughly by half breeds for bites and were roughly dismissed when their inspections were satisfied. She scanned the battle field and noticed only the pure bloods were being taken from the battle field and arranged neatly in wagons, while the rest laid where they fell. Half breeds continued to decapitate all the dead bodies, stopping only to loot before continuing. She was jerked hard and one of the half bulls snorted as she fell to her knees, dragging her over a rock, cutting her legs. She was pulled away from the battlefield and into a clearing where pure bloods wearing black armor with red highlights stood, their eyes alert and ready. As she was pulled past them only one let its eye follow her suspiciously. Shouting became clearer as she passed the tight formation, until she could see her captures and hear them with ease.

“…You don’t know? You must know! You’re the one who should know! Damn you to Chaos Draxz. Give me a reason for this failure.”

“My king…” Goren said interrupting. Metal being unsheathed filled the silence and the guards to Anula’s back ran past her. The half bulls stopped and Anula could see Goren standing, his hands out trying to keep Rurak and Draxz apart. Draxz snarled, blood still falling from fresh cuts, but his axe was still strapped to his hip.

“Do what you must brother, but killing me will not solve this problem.” Draxz spat lowering his horns, preparing for battle.

“You speak lies and now you show your sharpened horns, you are….” Rurak said stepping forward, sword point first.

“Guards!” Goren shouted and royal guards surrounded Draxz and Goren, preventing Rurak from charging.

“My king, let us take a step back and…” Goren said.

“You dare, I will have you both killed for this. Guards, chain them both!” Rurak shouted, but the guards stood still. “I should have seen this coming. I thought I could trust you, but you are a snake and a liar. You only want the throne for yourself.”

Goren stood emotionless, Draxz behind him held tight by guards, his arms behind his back.

“You have it all wrong my king. I am here to serve, not to lead. I am your advisor and personal guard.” Goren said calmly. “I advise you to stop, and think this through. Why would Draxz let a legion of Aύok wolves through the mountains without a single scout notifying us. The towers belong to my legion, not his. No wolves of that size could have gone unnoticed. We must instead find out how they did it. We killed them all this night. Let us hope Lykos wolves did not follow them. From what I have seen, they were gray and white, not black or brown. The halvras are searching the area, if Lykos was here, they would have attacked by now. Am I correct Draxz?” Goren said not looking back.

With a grunt Draxz spit and raised his head.

“Yes.” He growled out. Rurak looked from Draxz to Goren, his hand still tight on the swords grip.

“They caught us by surprise, it will not happen again.” Goren said meeting Rurak’s eyes.

“No, it will not.” He glanced back at Draxz and re sheathed his sword. “You will find out how they are here. If they fester, we lose our kingdom, and our subjects will become our enemy. We cannot have them on both sides of the mountain. We will speak of this again with the generals when we reach Kreet.” Rurak walked away and stopped without looking back.

“I do hope one of your many daggers do not find my back while it is turned Goren. I trust you to be my shield while I wield my sword, and my blade when I have lost mine. Release our brother, he will not put his axe in me while I walk away.” Rurak continued walking and three royal guards followed, leaving Goren and Draxz surrounded by the rest.

“Did you know?” Goren asked when Rurak was out of range.

“I did not.”

“Nothing unusual?”

“No”

“I have heard nothing either. Any signs of Lykos?”

“No”

“Did you have a feeling? You know their strategy better than any.”

“Why the questions? I will say what needs to be said when the time comes.”

“I am on your side brother, that is why.”

“You are on Goren’s side, that is your only side. Rurak sees it little brother, you should tread carefully. He may catch that dagger you will throw.”

“I would never kill the king, he…”

“I didn’t say you would, but your dagger will. You think me stupid, and nothing but my lust. Remember, I would have been king if your dagger didn’t find my back. Your words cost me a kingdom and exile to the wastelands where I bathed in battle and blood. You created the brother you see before you.” Draxz shoved by a guard, walking away.

“Make sure he avoids trouble.” Goren said to a guard watching Draxz approach his legionaries. The guard slammed a fist to his chest and followed his brother.

~

The sun crept over the mountains and color flooded the valley, a cold morning breeze carrying the smell of blood and moans of the injured. Anula’s senses, dulled from shock awoken and flooded her every sense. Her vision went from the chain on her wrists to Goren who walked towards the rest of the legion of pure bloods. The half bulls followed, pulling her along past hundreds of the dead and limbs still attached to their chains, bodies half eaten or missing. She looked on in horror and sadness of the state of her enslaved people.

“Keep her with the machikeros.” Goren said before disappearing into a group of pure bloods while she was pulled to a pond. She looked around when the half bulls drank. Her eyes set on large dark gray, almost black skinned beasts. At first glance they appeared to be a boulder, their hide rugged and coarse. The dark-skinned machikero towered over the half bulls, making them look like small dogs. They had large hooved feet, and armor lined their thick, tree-like legs. Their body was not just taller than any draft horse she had ever seen, but thicker than two draft horses’ side by side. She had seen a duke’s war horse once and thought it was the largest mount in the kingdom, but now staring at these creatures, she knew she was wrong. She looked at the closest beast and noticed an armored saddle that protected its side and underbelly with armor plating flowing down its legs, overlapping its leg armor. The saddle was thick with cushions and attached to the sides were packs and spears. Its thick neck looked almost stretched out as two ivory spikes grew from its large neck back towards its side. Its ears twitched as flies buzzed around its massive head. Along its snout an ivory horn sprouted above each nostril, with a third, only slightly shorter growing from between its orange eyes. She watched in an amazement while the machikero drank and made a deep grumbling noise, which was answered by another and another. Anula looked around the pond and noticed there were much more than three of these ivory horned beasts. A pure blood walked around each machikero carefully looking over every vulnerable spot, checking for wounds and each saddle for sturdiness. While next to the closest creature Anula noticed the creature’s saddle reached the minotaur’s chest, and its legs were thicker than the pure blood was wide. She continued to watch the handler work, amazed with the mounts. She had never seen one, but the stories she had heard did not measure up to the beast in person.

Anula sat by the pond with the beast till the sun reached the center of the sky. The remaining pure bloods, still covered in blood came into view with a large wagon pulled by two machikeros. As it passed, she saw the dead of five pure bloods lying in the back, still in their armor and their hands placed on their long swords. Goren appeared from a crowd and looked over the dead bodies then covered them with a red sheet. He nodded to a soldier and he brought a horn to his lips and blowing out three drawn out notes. The minotaur caring for the horned beasts brought forth the largest of the machikeros with the finest armor. Its ivory horns were reinforced with steel and its saddle lined with gems. Rurak and his royal guards went to Goren and said a few words Anula could not hear and walked towards the large machikeros. Rurak patted its neck and adjusted the pack, the saddle came to just below his chest and with a quick, effortless movement he was up on the beast looking out over the battle worn pure bloods. His royal guards were brought their mounts and they mounted as Rurak began trotting off. She noticed Draxz mounting a similar in size machikero, but it looked rugged. Instead of jewels, there were silver spikes and the armor looked thicker and covered in scratches. Its center horn was chipped and its snout had an old healed scar. If any of these creatures saw battle, Anula knew that one did without a doubt. She watched the remaining royal guard mount and take off leaving her alone with the minotaur who held the reins of the last machikero.

“With me.”

Anula’s heart leapt with fear of riding the horned beast, but the minotaur mounted and began trotting away. Her thoughts broke as she was pulled by the half bulls who matched the machikero’s speed. She was forced into a jog, knowing it would take only one misstep and she would be dragged along the road.

~

Anula was pulled awake and the pain in her wrist forced her eyes open. When they had finally stopped the night before, she had collapsed of exhaustion. When she looked back, she saw hundreds of people sleeping on the ground, they had caught up at some point while she was asleep. Horns blew and whips began to crack followed by the shouts of minotaur. They were slow to rise and the cracks of whips sounded more often followed by painful screams.

“Move, or we will break you and leave you to the wolves.” A pure blood shouted cracking the whip into a man. They moved quicker, not doubting the words. Anula was able to get her feet under her and easily kept pace. She looked back and saw the hundreds were keeping up with the slower pace. Half breeds readied their whips as they marched, looking forward to encouraging them.

Hours passed as she marched and the road became stone. Trees became sparse and travelers with packs and carts gave the road a wide birth. Off to the side of the road, caravans stood with half breeds and humans watching the precession. Anula’s eyes flicked over to the caravan and saw a man with a receding hairline and a salt and pepper goatee look at the enslaved people with an angry face. His hand touched the hilt of his sword, and his half breed companion who looked more human than bull placed his hand on his shoulder to calm him. A half breed whipped another enslaved person and the man by the caravan took one step forward. Three pure bloods shot from the line and stood towering over the man.

“These are our people. Your people. You take our grain, our cattle and now, this? To what end?” The man said, his hand still on his hilt.

“Peons to not speak to their superiors.” A club cracked across the man’s head, sending him to the ground. Two of the guards raised the man back to his feet and stood him up. “This is a lesson for everyone. Know your place.” The club cracked hard into the man’s gut and then again across the man’s right knee. Shouts of agony poured from the man’s lips and the guards released him to fall to the ground.

His half breed partner stood still, looking away from the beating. The guard looked down at the broken man and then to the half breed.

“Do you agree with your friend?”

“No.” The half breed replied in a low voice.

“Pathetic.” The guard spit to the ground. “No courage. No Pride. Your blood is weak and a disease upon this land.” Two guards held the half breed still. Looking down at the crippled man, the guard spotted the sword at his hip. He unsheathed it and walked to the half breed inspecting the blade closer.

“A dull blade, the pain your about to feel is not my fault, your friend should have kept his blade sharp.” When he reached the half breed, he grabbed the awkward growing horn with one hand and plunged the dull tip deep into the skull, cutting the horn from the flesh. The half-blood thrashed and screamed and the guard continued until both horns were cut free.

“You are hornless and without honor. Fall on your own horn or be condemned till your last breath.” The half breed was released and the bloodied horns were thrown to his feet. He fell to his knees clutching his horns, the tip of one to his chest, then dropped it to the ground and lowered his head in defeat.

“Condemned.” Each guard spit on the half breed and walked back into formation and towards Kreet.