Date: Tue, 21 May 2013 20:24:22 -0400 (EDT)
From: strike1463@aol.com
Subject: Bark at the Moon Chapter 3

Bark at the Moon - Taker of the Passion

The usual disclaimers apply. If this subject doesn't interest you, stop
reading now and leave this page.  Also, if you are younger than 18 yo leave
and read no further.  If the subject matter is considered illegal in your
area read no further.  Story is the sole property of the author and you may
not copy, print, reproduce or distribute it in any way, shape or form
without the author's express written permission.

Chapter 3 - And so it begins

It was quiet, much too quiet.  The air hung heavy as the sun sank lower in
the afternoon sky.  My eyes scanned the surrounding forest looking for any
sign of movement.  All were on heightened alert.  Patrols had been doubled,
watch-wolves on the ramparts increased, ever since our patrols had reported
increased activity surrounding us on all sides.  The monotone chanting of
the mages as they prepared their spells was calming.  I began walking from
post to post, much as a long ago ship's Captain would do prior to battle,
his mere presence among his crew raising morale, although I am not sure
whose moral needed raising more, mine or theirs.

We had been here all through the summer and fall with nothing more than
small seemingly suicidal attacks to gauge our strength.  Now winter was
fast approaching and with it the cold, harsh conditions of this northern
region.

"My Lord, look!"  One of my sentries called out to me.  I looked to the
western horizon where dark storm clouds were forming.  "The first snow is
soon upon us."  I walked to his side, as we continued to watch the
billowing clouds:

"It is a good thing you packed your furs," I chuckled.

"And you yours my Lord," his eyes quickly looking away from mine as I
rested my large paw on his shoulder.  I could feel his need to speak to me,
to ask me question that burned in his mind, but he remained silent.

"Come let us warm up by the fire."  I guided him a few steps back to where
a fire burned in a large iron pot.  I looked around making sure we were
alone; "Speak to me as a brother Wind Walker.  None shall know what you
say."  I watched as he relaxed slightly, his eyes gazing into mine.

"My Lord Abbadon," his head falling to his chest, his voice thick with a
French accent. "I worry.  I fear the coming war and more so my ability to
serve you as I should."  His paw clutched the glaive at his side.  "I do
not fear death Lord, but only that I die a failure to you."  I lifted his
muzzle so our eyes once again looked at each other's.

"You are not the only one to have such thoughts.  Never has there been a
man or beast that has faced battle, which have not had such thoughts of
failure.  Be vigilant at your post and take strength from those around you.
Many who you now see among us shall not live to see the dawn after our
fight, yet others shall live to fight another day.  You know what you need
to know.  You have trained hard and long for what must be done.  Trust in
your ability to wield your weapon and vanquish our common enemy."  I
watched him as pride filled his body; I saw the sparkle in his eyes as his
mind took control of his fear, banishing it from thought.  He stood with a
renewed sense of honor.  I stood before him, my own pride swelling as I saw
no fear in him.  He was younger than me both in both human and wolf form.

"If it is written you are to die, remember that as your enemy gazes down
upon you, above him are the silent witness to his deed.  Witnesses who are
your kin that shall remember for all time and who shall aveng..."  A voice
spoke in my head, heard by me as clear as if the person speaking was at my
side.  Scott's voice, telling me to run, to run NOW!  I clutched my head as
his voice was replaced by a high-pitched whistle.  I dropped to my knees;
the pain from this sound was like an ice pick stabbed through my ears.  I
could see I was not the only one affected as my entire werewolf army were
dropping, writhing on the ground.  Wizards and Mages running to the aid of
the fallen confused as to what was happening.  Again, Scott's voice in my
mind pleading with me to run!  Through the pain I stood, grabbing at Wind
Walker's mane, pulling him up pushing him to run for cover.  Below us in
the compound, Wizards and Mages were struggling to move the affected to
cover.  Magic was being cast; magic to protect us, to guard us from harm,
too late.

A thunderous boom rose up from the center of the compound, blinding light
burned at our eyes, billowing smoke choked our lungs.  Wind Walker leapt
between me and the explosion, his body taking the full force of the blast.
The searing heat burning his fur and skin his body slamming against mine,
sending us back to the stone walk, his limp body falling on me.  I stood
shaking my head to clear my mind as I staggered to the edge looking down
into the smoldering compound.  Mangled bodies of wolves and wizards
littered the burned ground smoke rising from their corpses.

Quick flashes of light began to flicker here and there, as our enemy began
appearing throughout the compound, their weapons drawn, glinting steel
flashing with the light of the still burning fires; striking at the bodies
lying around them assuring their death.  I leapt to the compound, grabbing
a large sword from the ground, my powerful arm swinging this blade in a
deadly arc around me.  Cleaving limbs from bodies, heads from necks,
arterial blood spraying up raining down upon me, my enemies falling dead at
my feet.

 I was set upon by two rather large werewolves, their cold blades slicing
into me as I fought to defend myself.  With a mighty thrust, I impaled the
first on my sword, his face shocked to see my steel piercing into to him,
his paws clutching at the doubled edged blade, blood running from his
fingers as he gripped the sword trying to remove it from his body.  More
blood belching from his mouth as he gasped for breath.  I ripped my sword
from his guts, his fingers dropping like sausages to the ground as my blade
severed them from his paws.  I spun my blade wide slicing cleanly through
the other's neck that was advancing behind me, his body falling at my feet.
Bloodied stumps pawed at me as the first struggled to hold onto his life,
clutching at me as if I was going to save him.

From beside me a flash of steel, a blur of movement as Wind Walker's glaive
severed his head.  I watched this happen in near slow motion as the pike
end entered his neck then appearing on the other side followed by the
hooked blade, which cleanly cut through bone and flesh.  I looked to see
Wind Walker's warrior face, his blood lust at his first kill as he turned
to look at me.  He spun his glaive in a flurry of motion striking a
defensive pose, defending me, scanning for his next victim.

 By now, our forces were storming into the compound, the battle, no the war
had now begun.  We fought on, as more and more enemies appeared.  I caught
sight of Breccan as he and a swarm of vampires appeared charging into the
fray, ripping into the necks of any who stood before them.  To my left, a
large group of enemies had formed.  I turned to enter that fight as
suddenly their bodies began to be thrown into the air.  I fought my way
closer now able to see Jamie my Beta and Soba the cause of their flight.  A
sudden look of terror on Jamie's face caught my eye.  I quickly knelt and
thrust my large sword up behind me.  The bloodied steel thrusting up into
the chest and neck of a vampire behind me, his black putrid blood gushing
out running down over my paws and arms; his head falling before me as Wind
Walker's weapon finished its strike.  I looked to the demonic face, its
mouth still open twisted fangs still wet with blood.

The sounds of clashing metal blades and the ominous swooshing of flying
arrows filled my ears.  The ramparts were now filled with archers and
wizards for Oberon.  Arrows tipped with silver sliced through the air near
us, the silver causing my skin to crawl.  Lightning flashed from the
fingers of the wizards, the bolts exploding upon impact.  Without thinking,
my pawed hand snatched an arrow in midflight.  I stood for a second looking
at it in my paw my eyes gazing down its length from black feathered
fletching to the razor sharp tip not more than an inch from Wind Walker's
eye.  My fingers snapped the shaft like a toothpick and my gaze soon took
in the archer who had sent this missile of death at us.

This mangy werewolf, stood shocked at my action, his eyes wide in
amazement.  Our eyes locked as he began to fumble searching for another
arrow to fire at us, at me.  I leapt to the wall my claws digging into the
old mortar as I climbed.  I sprung up the last five feet landing with a
thud just feet from my foe.  I could clearly sense his panic, his rushed
movements to find and load an arrow causing his quiver to tip spilling its
contents on the stone walk.  I bashed the bow from his shaking paw leaving
him defenseless and falling to his knees.

My claws dug deeply into his flesh as I raised him over my head, a
triumphant howl rising from deep within me.  I saw my army briefly looking
to me then all began pointing to my right.  There stood John, his eyes as
black as coal, hands to the ready, words of magic on his lips, sparks
igniting from the tips of his fingers.  I swung the archer and with his
body, blocked the lightning bolts John's magic launched at me.

The archer's cries of pain were deafening, his back exploding in a mass of
blood and flesh.  With all my strength, I hurled his quickly dying body at
John, watching as it crashed into him and others near where he stood.  I
leapt onto the pile of stunned bodies ripping them from under me looking
for John.

I found him dazed and confused, his eyes with a distant look in them not
able to focus.  Lifting him over my head, I turned to look at the compound
below.  Wind Walker ran to stand below me his glaive braced in the ground.
I flung John's body down, Wind Walker's weapon stabbing up through John's
abdomen black blood spurting from the wound.  I jumped from the ramparts,
Wind Walker lifting his glaive and then ripping it from John's body,
leaving him floating in midair for mere seconds.  I crashed onto him and as
we hit the ground, shoved my paw into his chest my fingers searching for
his heart.  Finding it, I ripped it from his chest still beating.  With my
other hand, I ripped out his throat then I crushed his heart, which burst
into bright blue flames.

Wind Walker handed me my sword as I surveyed the battlegrounds.  I saw
Jamie and Soba fighting back to back.  Breccan leading a pack of my
werewolves as they defended the main building, their fight a near massacre.
My parents fought nearby casting spells in my defense.  We moved closer to
Beta and Soba, our blades clearing a path for our advance as we joined
forces.  Brec too was soon at my side.  His body covered in blood, his face
conveying without words his concern for my safety, but knowing I was where
I needed to be.  He savagely attacked any enemy brave enough to draw near
to him, dagger like claws tearing into flesh, long razor sharp fangs
gouging gaping holes.  He feasted only seconds on each of his victims
before dropping them to die.  Pride in all of my army filled my mind as we
fought against a never-ending horde of evil.  I could see all of them
fighting without fail as one enemy would fall and another took its place.
Lightning bolts flashed down from the ramparts striking our enemies, their
bodies exploding into bloodied clouds of electrified pieces of flesh.

I found myself enjoying the fight; blood lust surging through me as I
fought with my pack for our lives; every kill, nay, every spattering of
blood upon my skin driving me to kill more.  I began to toy with those I
fought, drawing out their inevitable death by my hands.  Reveling in the
knowledge that they knew they would die and then with a final almost sexual
thrust, my sword would penetrate and I would pull them to me, our bodies
pressing together for a final embrace.

Enemy blood mixed with my own, dripping from my fur.  The blood muddied
ground caked to my feet and legs; this was war at its finest.  Not the
glorified battles portrayed on TV and in movies, this was up close,
personal.  Mano e Mano, fight or die.  This is what I was born for.  This
creature I had this moment become was my true self.  Cleaving the head off
yet another of my victims I reared back my head, arms stretched wide my
blade red with blood glinted in the battles light;

"I AM ABBADON," I roared, "FALLEN ANGEL, DESTROYER OF WORLDS!"  A mighty
howl, unlike any other I had ever done echoed off the compound walls as my
worriers erupted with a vocal battle cry.  A wizard for Oberon stood before
me, her entire body trembling at my sight, her hands shaking so hard her
spell failed.  I stepped closer, from my mouth an evil roar, the force of
my breath knocking the hood from her head.  I swung my sword through her
body yet still she stood looking at me.  Had I missed?  Had I not struck
her down with one blow?  My mind was confused; I took a staggered step
forward watching her.  With the tip of my blade pressed to her chest, I
gave a slight push, her torso tipping back falling from her hips where I
had sliced clean through.  A tremendous fountain of blood ejected out from
her bathing me in its wet hotness.  More blood bubbled up from her hips as
her legs crumpled to the ground.

I was not alone in seeing this gory scene as all those around me cheered at
my vicious attack.  I stood transfixed at this power I now had.  My paw
slowly wiped the vast amount of her blood from my face, its taste acrid in
my mouth.

We fought for several hours until finally our enemy had been vanquished.
The last of Oberon's forces fleeing the battlegrounds with screams of
terror, my wizards and archers falling as many as they could.  Death magic
and arrows finding their backs as they ran, no mercy was given or shown.  I
found myself upon a pile of their dead.  I looked around watching as my
army dispatched any enemy that still lived.  Rearing back, I howled in
triumph.  My call long and proud, my fellow werewolves joining in as our
voices proclaimed victory.  Yet this victory was not without tremendous
loss.  Many of my brave followers had given their lives in the fight, their
bodies littered amongst the dead of our foe.  I knelt next to a young
werewolf, his life ebbing from him, a silver tipped arrow still smoking,
buried deep his chest.  He lifted a weakened arm, his paw clutching at my
matted fur.

"Did we..." his voice small and strained as blood bubbled from his throat.
"Did we win Lord?"  I lay my hand to his face.

"Yes," I struggled to say, choking back tears, trying to be strong for this
dying worrier.  "Yes we have defeated them."  His eyes dimly sparkled one
last time, his life fading as I drew him into my arms.  "Rest now my
worrier, live to fight another day."  His head to my bloodied chest his
words mere whispers against my skin.

"The honor is to serve... my Lor..." his body falling limp in my arms, his
death breath fading against me.  I lifted him in my arms, his body
reverting back to that of his human self, I carried him with me.

My parents came to me as I stepped off my perch, Breccan by my side.  Their
concern for my health etched on their faces.

"My Lord Abbadon," my father began, "please come so we may tend your
wounds," his hands reaching out to me tentatively, shaking as they did,
trying to remove the body of this boy I carried.

"He and all like him are to be respected and honored," I ordered, allowing
my father to take the boy from me.  He passed his body to that of another
mage who looked to me and nodded his understanding.

"Yeah Gryf, come on," Brec said taking my arm.  "Let's get you fixed up."
I scanned the compound looking for the generals and those closest to me and
without looking at anyone, I spoke.

"Find the generals and my pack.  Bring them to the war room.  This fight
was just the beginning."  I then looked to myself.  Bloody cuts and deep
burns marked my body.  Until that point, I had felt no pain.  Suddenly
weak, I allowed Breccan to slide his arms around me and fly us up over the
carnage.  Blood flowed like small streams out the gates as smoke continued
to rise from the compound.  Brec set us down on the landing and moved to
look at me.  His bloodied hands stroked through my matted fur, his eyes
stared at my wounded body still oozing blood.  Without a word, he mashed
his face to a large slice across my chest his tongue seeking out the blood
that flowed from it.  No fangs did I feel, only the tip of his pointed
vampiric tongue as it gently pressed into the bone deep cut.  His arms
hugging me to him tightly as soft moans of pleasure escaped his mouth.

"He warned me Brec," my words mere whispers to his ears my fingers running
through his hair.  Brec stopped, frozen in place his mind racing with
thoughts of Scott.  His mind reliving that night when last we'd seen him as
my paws continued stroking his head.  "He called out to me right before it
began, told me to run, not once but twice."  I pressed my muzzle to his
head, exhaling a long slow breath smelling the carnage on his hair.
Breccan pulled away from me.  I grabbed at him pulling him back, which he
fought against.  I wrapped my strong arms around him holding him tight.  I
could feel his need to continue to take from me the blood that covered my
whole body.  I slid my paw up under his shirt touching his still warm
flesh, this touch calming him, his mouth over my nipple a fang piercing my
sensitive flesh; I swooned falling back to the stonewall behind me as he
began drinking my blood.  I allowed this to continue letting myself slowly
drift away.  Finally, I felt at peace.



I opened my eyes, Brec still sucking from my chest, Malik's hand to his
shoulder his words mumbled as the fog in my mind cleared.

"Master Breccan, you must stop.  You are draining him," Malik trying to
remove Breccan from me.  Brec's mind was focused only on taking my blood.
No other thoughts did he have.  Pressing my muzzle to his head, I exhaled
again, this huffing somehow bringing Breccan back to me.  He lifted his
face looking up at me, his skin hot with my life, his eyes sparkling as he
looked to me.  Suddenly his mind cleared, he remembered where he was and
what he was doing.  He pulled away from me, straightening his clothes
wiping my blood from his lips.

Below us, the compound was being cleared.  The bodies of our fallen lay in
honor to the left.  Rows and rows of them lay there.  We had suffered great
loss this night; far too many had fought and died for our cause. The bodies
of our enemy heaped in several piles to the right, which now were being set
alight with torches.  The stench of burning flesh permeated the air as
thick black smoke began to rise from each fire.  Malik turned to me;

"Lord, all have gathered as you requested."  He then turned and entered the
hall.

"We need to go," Brec mumbled, "it will be morning soon."  We walked side
by side into the war room where the generals and my pack stood wearied and
bloodied.  Mages worked tending wounds, stopping only long enough to bow to
me.  Christopher came to kneel before me, in his hands he held the sword I
had fought with.

"My Lord, your weapon," his voice was full of reverence. I took it from him
and helped him to stand.  He was badly battered but he lived.  Laying my
weapon on the table I looked to each of my pack, gauging the severity of
their wounds, glad that all had lived to fight again.  "My Lord Abbadon,"
Soba began.  "We lost a great number of warriors, but Oberon has lost many
more.  I say we take this moment to bring this war to him.  We can defeat
him with an immediate attack where he now hides."  He was right.  An attack
now would ensure our ultimate victory.  I moved to the windows gazing out
into the compound.  My mind suddenly thinking of the vision I had seen
through Breccan's eyes.  My thoughts focused on compassion.

"Find me the strongest of those that remain.  Half of these shall remain
here.  The other half shall go to Oberon and prevent him from regrouping.
Those that remain shall bury our dead, heal themselves.  When all is ready
we shall then march on Oberon, together."  I turned to my parents.
"Wizards, prepare your mages.  Focus only on this fight."  I waved my arm
to the others present.  "The rest of us shall heal on our own.  Gather what
weapons remain of good strength and rearm all who remain.  I do not think
there will be another attack this day, but have our sentries remain
vigilant just the same."  I moved back to the table and picked up my sword
holding it above my head.  "The first battle of this war has been fought."
I looked to each gathered, "And victory is ours!"  I slammed the point of
my sword into the center of the table as everyone cheered in triumph.  "We
have won a great victory this night and dealt Oberon a decisive blow by
killing John," another cheer rose up from all gathered.  "Much magic did it
take for Oberon to hit us as he did and now I think he will rest."  I
looked to my parents who nodded in agreement.  "To win we must move fast."
I again walked to the window and looked to our honored dead.  "I swear to
you all this night on my life, your deaths shall be avenged."



Author's note:

There is chapter three for you!  I hope you are all still enjoying the
story!  Be sure to check out my web site www.littlewolfpublishing.com Lots
of information about the release date for book one and other exciting
things.

Don't forget to send me an email and let me know how you are enjoying the
series!  I promise to reply to any and all who write!

If you are able, please make a donation to nifty so we can keep this
important site available for everyone.  There is a link on their home page.
Thanks again for reading and for your support!

Wolf hugs and howls!

Jimmy "little wolf"