Date: Mon, 10 Oct 2011 14:37:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bien Clar <bienclar@yahoo.com>
Subject: council of elders chapter 6

DISCLAIMER

The follow story is fictional. Any resemblance between these characters and
persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.

This story will contain scenes of a sexual nature between consenting adult
men. Therefore, if you are under 18 (or whatever age is deemed as "adult" in
your country), if it is illegal to read this material in your country or if
you are offended by the idea of sex between two consenting adult men,
DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.

The author cannot be held accountable for the decision you make after reading
this disclaimer and if you didn't read it then you don't deserve to be
reading porn. There, I said it, now bugger off. If none of the above applies
to you then feel free to enjoy and feel free to contact the author with
praise, criticism or just flames at bienclar@yahoo.com.  My decision to
continue the story will be based on the responses I get, if I get any at all.

Hi to all of my readers! I'm sorry for the delay - again - but there's been a
real lack of inspiration as to how to continue. Plus I haven't been receiving
much feedback (only 2 emails in the last two weeks) so I've been feeling
unloved. It sounds dumb, but I REALLY want to hear from you guys. I want to
get some criticism, constructive or otherwise, because I want to get better!

I warn that this chapter contains scenes that readers may find gratuitously
violent. Sorry.

Enjoy the show XOXO

***

The Black Widow swooped down, cackling as she flew. Her locks of shining
black hair streamed behind her as her feathered wings beat contemptuously at
the thin evening air. She accelerated towards the tiny figure running towards
the light
and safety of the small town that lay twinkling in the near distance.

Her desperate prey was sprinting harder now. She was
leaving a cloying trail of fear and adrenaline,
which acted like giant neon sign that said
"HERE I AM! EAT ME!"

The girl could tell that she was being followed, that much was obvious. She
kept turning her head to steal furtive glances at the impenetrable darkness
that lay behind her. The Widow increased her speed even more so that she was
almost on top of the girl, the wind rushing through the space between their
bodies. She could just reach down and tear the terrified child from the
ground like plucking a blade of grass.

The little girl chose that moment to look up again and the moment that she
did she was
doomed. Those red eyes, those red eyes that glowed like the embers of a dying
star, those eyes that burned into her and made her blood turn to ice. The
girl could feel her legs locking into place,
powerless to resist the force of will behind those terrible eyes. She froze
on the
spot as the Widow landed like a butterfly on the sodden field.

"Be calm little-one." The Widow cooed softly, her forked tongue lashing out
to taste the air. "I'm not going to hurt you. It'll be much easier if you
stop running."

"W-w-who-who are you?" The girl stared at the beautiful woman who had been
following her. The Widow's skin was a pure ivory that shone in the moon's
borrowed
luminescence. Her lips were the shape of Cupid's bow and red as sunset. She
smiled showing perfect rows of teeth.

"My dear, the better question would be 'what are you'. But that's a story for
another day. Unfortunately, you won't be able to hear that story."

"Please, let me go. I-I-I'm sorry if I've upset you for some reason." The
girl began to choke on her fearful sobs.

"Oh no. Don't cry. I hate it when my food cries. Everything gets all salty."
The Widow let out another harsh cackle and began to circle the shivering
child.

"Why are you doing this? Why were you chasing me?"

"I'm absolutely starving, that's why." The Widow began to lick her lips at
the thought of sinking her teeth into the pale throat of the young girl.

In the face of terrible danger, the girl did what she had been taught to do
by her grandmother: she began to sing. The song had no words as such; it was
more of a feeling deep down in the soul. The notes gave off a thin shimmer as
they spilled from the girl's mouth. The air above the girl began to dance
with spectral light, acting like a flare that, on a clear night, could be
seen for miles around. The power was raw, unfocused; yet it was trained
enough to make things even more difficult for the Black Widow.

The Widow raised a pale hand and sent a jagged fork of lightning at the girl,
but the electricity dissipated on contact with a thin membrane that seemed to
hover above the girl's skin. She tried again, but the young voice continued
to blossom forth.

This was old magic, old and powerful. There had been a time when the Black
Widow would have batted the girl aside with a single glancing blow, but she
was so very hungry and so very weak. What awful luck that she should face an
opponent trained in the Vocative on her first day back on Earth. She would
have to use some other tactic to lower the brat's defences.

"What a beautiful voice you have child," she crooned. "Who taught you?" The
girl continued to sing, obviously intelligent enough not to break her
concentration. A single lapse in the lyrical weaving of the magic would
result in her immediate demise.

"I doubt it was your daddy's side, men don't see the power in music. It must
have been your mummy... or maybe your granny?" The Widow was determined to
distract her meal from her task. She was rewarded by a brief flicker of fear.
"Hmmm... yes, I see. The matriarch of your family has been teaching you."

Unsurprising, the magic was too old to be from just one generation. Though
sorcerers had a disturbing habit of living much longer than they should (it
had something to do with the constant magical field that surrounded their
bodies), no mere human could be over one thousand years old.

Right. That was enough. The girl clearly had a set of lungs that a blue whale
would be proud to own. The Widow inhaled deeply and started to scream blue-
bloody-murder at the top of her voice. The sheer ferocity of the noise made
the girl lose her place for the single moment needed.

The Widow lunged with triumph blazing in her eyes, but in the instant before
contact with the girl's skin a white shining light
barrelled into her and she was sent flying into the mud.

"Not my granddaughter you bitch!"

The white light coalesced into a tall woman with hair the colour of
moonlight. She raised a long sword from a scabbard on her belt and advanced
on the Widow, who stayed motionless in the muddy earth. Her cream robe
billowed around her bare feet as she strode forward. The Widow rose oddly.
Her neck was twisted and her arms seemed to bend at strange angles. Her face
was caked in dirt and blood was dripping from a mouth that was now full of
black razor-sharp teeth.

"I see that you no longer bother with the glamour, foul beast." The elderly
sorceress said with a smirk of triumph.

"You caught me off guard you old hag!" The Widow crowed as she shed the final
vestiges of her human form. "We both know that you can't beat me in a fair
fight. You haven't got the power. I may have just arrived, but I've still got
enough juice to crush you into the ground."

"My granddaughter seemed to do excellent job of holding you off all by
herself." The old sorceress smirked again.

"I have not battled a gifted Vocateur in quite some time; I must admit I was
impressed to see that someone still studied the old ways. But that's not
enough to stop me eating her."

The Widow bent over and two pairs of legs burst out along her torso. She rose
on eight clicking talons on a body covered in black, barbed scales. Her face
morphed so that it was covered by a row of eight glowing red eyes and a
gaping red mouth. The Widow was now huge and spider-like. She let out an odd
screech
that sent echoes into the night.

"I don't know who or what you are, but if you think I'm going to let you kill
my granddaughter then you're in for one hell of a surprise." The old woman
settled into a stance that would allow her to attack and defend as necessary.
"And who said anything about a fair fight?"

Runes began to slide up and down the surface of the sword in her hands. They
raced along the blade, covering it with dancing golden light. The edge seemed
to glint and as if to demonstrate the weapon's power, the old sorceress left
a trail of sparks in the air as she spun the sword in her hands.

"A magic sword? God... what a cliche." The Widow's voice was garbled by the
many jaws that worked to shape it. Clearly, the Widow was not quite so adept
at speech in this form.

"I'm so sorry Granny. I tried to keep going, but I just couldn't." The girl
was nearly in tears.

"It's okay love, you did very well. You kept her off long enough for me to
get the signal and get here." The old woman's expression suddenly changed
from pride to iron. "Claire, I need you to run. Do you understand?"

"Yes Granny!" came the hasty reply, followed by the sound of shoes clomping
away through the thick grass of the fields.

The moment the noise was gone, the sorceress whirled into a flurry of action.
She sliced forward with the blade, but was rebuffed by flames that flew in
plumes from the Widow's mouth. She dodged a second gout and swivelled in
towards one of the legs. The sword slashed through the air and severed the
first leg like a hot knife through butter, making the Widow scream in pain,
surprise and fury. A spout of green blood gushed from the stump and the Widow
was left unbalanced. Another billow of fire snaked out of the red maw and
lashed across the sorceress' thigh. She stumbled back in agony and only just
raised the sword in time to block a clawed foot that struck out at her.

She pushed forward and sent the Widow backward a few paces. She bit her right
thumb and thrust her hand into the ground. The blood mingled with the earth
for a moment, and then cracks started to form along the ground. A fissure
opened up between the Widow's legs and she fell down into the hole with a cry
of rage. The sorceress bit her left thumb and then thrust that hand into the
ground causing the fissure to close up and swallow the Widow into the depths
of the soil.

A momentary glimmer of victory shone in the sorceress' eyes, and then the
field began to shake under her. A lone talon gouged its way out of the mud
and then another and another. The Widow dragged herself to the surface and
lunged at the startled woman.

The Widow struck again and again, her claws never quite managing to get
through the sorceress' parries. She tried a different tack and backed off
before spitting a ball of fire towards the kneeling old woman. The fireball
struck the edge of the blade, which held for a few moments and then flew from
the woman's hands in a lazy parabola that ended with the sword buried in the
mud a few yards away. The old lady tried to make a desperate grab for it, but
was
yanked backwards by the Widow's claws.

"Don't toy with me! Just end it!"

"But I like to play with my food first..." was the chattering response. The
Widow raised the old woman up so that she was level with her many glowing
eyes.

"Bad idea." The sorceress grinned and barked a single note of pure defiance.
The sword wrenched itself from the ground
and flew into the old woman's outstretched hand. She swung it up and then
brought it down heavily on the Widow's head, cleaving the cluster of eyes in
two and partially blinding the Widow. The creature screamed again and lowered
her impossibly sharp mouth onto the sorceress who was laughing hysterically
even as she saw the rows of teeth surrounding her. The Widow clamped her jaws
around the old woman's head and bit down, ripping the neck and sending
torrents of blood in every direction.

The sorceress died in torment as she was eaten alive by the Black Widow, but
her death ensured that any future opponent would have a much better chance of
victory.

The Widow was temporarily too weak to transform back into her human form, she
was forced to crawl away and hide until the exhaustion of the battle faded.
Her torn limbs would never regrow, not in this reality at least. When at last
she had the energy to raise the glamour again, she had one eye and one empty
socket as well as two fingers missing from her left hand. Her mouth was still
bloody from the kill, teeth still blackened and inhuman. It was almost
daylight and she was still too tired to fly, so she slumped down in the
bushes she had hidden in and went to sleep.

***



They were sitting in a small clearing, resting from yet another day of
endless walking. Neither of his companions seemed to be suffering from the
torturous trek they had been on since dawn. In fact, Owen had never seen
either of them go to sleep at all. It was quite the mystery, but Owen didn't
have the energy to delve into it at the moment.

"How big could this forest possibly be?" thought Owen as he rubbed his aching
legs. "We've been walking for days."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. They dress up in weird clothes and
randomly burst into song?" asked Fenris with a perplexed expression.

Owen had been attempting, without much luck, to explain the finer points of
musical theatre to the pair of werewolves. But he was about as successful as
he had been when he had tried to teach them about Harry Potter. He had just
finished describing
the various types of voices and had started detailing the plot of The Sound
of Music to some people who had apparently been living in a cave for the past
fifty years.

"Don't they have TVs where you guys come from?" His two travelling companions
began to share sheepish grins. "Seriously? What are you, Amish?"

"Uh-"

"Yes that's EXACTLY what we are!" Cried Caesar with a masterfully subtle
elbow to Fenris' diaphragm. "We're on our Rumspringa right now actually."

"You seem a bit... old to be doing your Rumspringa. And you two sound like
you come from completely different places. And you have a crucifix around
your neck. And you-"

"Alright, alright! We're not Amish. Why do you care so much?"

"Because you have, for all intents and purposes, kidnapped me. You are taking
me on some convoluted trail through a forest to god-only-knows where and you
keep lying about who you are." Owen placed his hands on his hips and frowned
at them until one of them cracked.

"He's right Caesar; we can't keep hiding things from him forever. He'll find
out eventually and by then we won't be able to help him." Fenris gave Owen a
broad smile that made the young man's heart flutter.

"Okay, fine. Owen, it's time we told you something we should have told you a
long time ago. The truth is... we're aliens." Caesar's lupine face was
totally
deadpan, not a single twitch belied his blatant dishonesty.

"Aliens?"

"Yes. Aliens. You have been selected as the specimen of the human race who
will be taken back to our mothership and examined. Don't be scared, the
probing only hurts a little the first time."

Owen's mouth gaped in disbelief at the audacity of the old man's lie. He
swivelled back to face Fenris and gave him a menacing look. Fenris blinked,
momentarily taken aback by his mentor's creativity, and then grinned again.
The giant then turned on the spot and began walking into the forest. Both
remaining men heard the sound of his footfalls getting softer and softer
until there was silence. Owen hitched up his too-big jeans and stalked
after Fenris while Caesar brought up the rear with barely concealed mirth.

Owen increased his pace until he was jogging beside the massive werewolf.
Neither of them talked, it seemed like some unspoken agreement that they
would never mention what Caesar had said ever again. They continued in this
fashion for some time until Owen could no longer
maintain the speed and started to wheeze. Instead of slowing down, Fenris
simply swung around and grabbed Owen under the legs, dragging him over his
shoulder into a fireman's carry. Even with Owen's 160lb frame hanging from
his right shoulder, he kept going at the same velocity.

Instead of complaining, Owen simply took the opportunity to enjoy the view,
namely that of Fenris' buttocks rising and falling as he swept over the grass
at a trot. Caesar was loping gracefully behind them in powerful strides that
made up for the difference in altitude between he and Fenris. Owen scowled at
the dirty grin working its way around the old man's mouth then noticed
something else that made him rub his eyes; he could have sworn for a moment
that Caesar's feet left the ground and he walked on thin air. He looked again
but the old man seemed to be very much connected to the floor. But no, that
was impossible. He pushed the idiotic thoughts away, blaming
his lapse in rationality on caffeine withdrawal. If he had been paying more
attention he would have seen the Caesar left no footprints where he trod.

***

Fenris strode on through the trees, his nose guiding him towards civilisation
that lay beyond the woods. He couldn't believe that Caesar was being so rigid
about not telling Owen the truth. It seemed pointless to keep lying to the
guy for much longer, he was going to work it out eventually. The werewolf
felt oddly compelled to talk to the man about, well, anything. Was it because
he was so full of life and unmarred by the cynicism of the world? Was it
because he had an easy laugh and a fiery temper? Or was it simply that he was
Fenris' ideal man? Or maybe it was D - All of the above.

"You okay back there?" he asked the limp figure over his shoulder. It was
important to him that Owen wasn't uncomfortable, even such a compromising
position.

When there was no answer, he stopped walking and hefted the man into his
arms. The Daemon was fast asleep, snoring gently and burrowing his face into
the werewolf's chest like kitten squirming to get comfy. Fenris carried him
in his arms like a newborn, until at last, the sun went down and they made up
camp. He carefully wrapped the boy up in his sleeping bag and sat down by the
fire. Caesar was pacing around the embers, muttering quietly, planning their
next move.

They were on the very edge of the woods now. It would be much easier going
from here, but he hoped that Owen knew how to drive. Fenris looked into the
sky and saw the full moon. But that wasn't right. The full moon shouldn't be
for at least another few weeks. Fenris grimaced as he felt the first wave of
tremors course through his body. He ran deeper into the forest, trying to get
as far away from the light of the campfire as possible before transforming.

Fenris stumbled and fell as his bones began to crack and realign. He moaned
in pain as thick black hairs began to sprout. His skin began to tear, but
sealed itself immediately leaving no trace of a scar. It was almost
impossible to kill a werewolf mid-change because his cells were replicating
so fast that any damage would be healed almost instantly.

He cried out again in agony as he felt his feet and hands grow sharp claws.
Fenris leaned against a tree and bit hard into one of the thickest branches
to stop himself from screaming. But he tore right through it with his
serrated teeth and powerful jaw. His mind went momentarily blank as he was
filled with a burning desire to rip and tear, but reasserted itself before
his instincts overpowered him.

Something was definitely up. Hs entire body was thrumming with power and he
seemed to be getting stronger every second. He scraped a lengthened talon
against the tree and clove it in two with that single swipe. He howled and
the noise was echoed by wolves that prowled in the distance.

"I suppose you're wondering what's going on kid. Well I'd better explain
myself." Caesar's voice was coming from inside his head rather than from some
projection. "You must be wondering why you're suddenly twice your normal
size."

"You did this?" thought Fenris.

"Apparently the fact that you have all the magic of an Elder mixing with your
own means that your werewolf is now as big as the two of ours combined and
then some. It makes sense if you think about it really; our wolf form is
based mainly upon our magical strength."

"Then why was I always the runt of the pack? My brothers were always bigger
than me."

"You had never accessed your power before, so the magic couldn't be let out.
Your old form, though magnificently impressive by normal werewolf standards,
was nothing compared to what you can become now. Especially since my presence
is adding to your strength. My, my, you ARE a big boy aren't you?" Caesar's
projection appeared and walked around Fenris' hulking frame, examining the
sleek fur and the coiled layers of muscle with expert interest.

"But what about the full moon? That shouldn't be there for a fortnight at
least."

"Well, I'll admit I had a hand in it. But you did all the heavy lifting."

"What are you talking about? I didn't do that. You must have done it."

"Even I'm not that good kid. Magic has a life of its own, and yours is more
alive than I've ever seen. It's pretty much sentient and it decided that it
wanted to give you a bit of a boost. I gave it a few directions on the
specific method, but the power came from you not me. The fact you didn't
realise is a sign of just how strong you are."

"Isn't that a little... much? What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Yeah Caesar. No one gets this ridiculously overpowered without some kind of
horrendous drawback."

"Tell me about it. When I was alive, I was blind. But that's just the price
you pay for clairvoyance. I don't know what'll happen to you, but I'm sure
it'll make up for your advantages." Caesar suddenly buckled and his
projection vanished. "Oh... so that's it."

"What?" thought Fenris.

"It appears that, in order to keep you from going insane and rampaging across
the world, I need to be fully focussed on keeping your humanity intact.

"You mean that if you stop concentrating on holding my magic in check, I'll
go mental?"

"I think the correct term is to 'suffer from a psychotic break' but yes, you
will go - as they say - batshit." Caesar suddenly groaned with effort. "Which
unfortunately means no combat advice when you're in this form. You'll remain
like this until the full moon goes down. Happy hunting! Oh, by the way, once
I disappear you'll start to feel... dumb. But don't worry, it's perfectly
normal."

With that, Caesar's presence seemed to diminish and Fenris became more aware
of his surroundings. The tree he had been leaning on was now lying broken at
a 45 degree angle, the roots sticking out of the ground in a tangled mass of
mud. The stars in the sky seemed to call out to him; they were much brighter
than ever before. His snout twitched and he caught the scent of something
wonderful. He recognised it briefly, but a moment later the thought was
whisked away. He crashed to the ground, his front paws making contact with
the decomposing leaves of the woodland floor.

He could hear the sound of hooves off to the right and turned just in time to
see a herd of deer racing past. He swivelled and gave chase like a lion. He
easily caught up with the panicked deer, his long strides matching their
faster yet smaller ones. He pounced on the nearest doe, an old female who
cantered arthritically behind the others in the herd. His teeth broke through
the surface of her skin with an effortless grace that ended the prey's
suffering before it even began. The other deer quickened their pace until he
could no longer hear them. But he wasn't concerned, he had enough food to
keep him sated for the moment.

The wind suddenly changed and he raised his bloody head from the carcass. He
caught another waft of that smell, that smell that was so sublime; he
couldn't describe it, even in his head. He saw a bright light up ahead and
nearly pushed over another tree in his excitement. He slowed down and raised
his head to sniff the air once again. It was coming from a place directly in
front of him; it was very familiar but once again, his fuzzy thoughts were
evading him.

There, wrapped in a furry blanket, lay a boy. This was obviously the source
of Fenris' interest. He crept forward as silently as is possible when you're
a half-tonne werewolf. The boy stirred in his sleep and his eyes flashed open
at the sound of Fenris' heavy breathing.

***

Owen stared up at the giant beast that was mere inches from his face. He
would have screamed for help, but there was a strange look of longing in the
creature's eyes. It was almost human. The creature moved even closer and
opened its mouth, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth that glinted ominously
in the moonlight. A tongue as red as mahogany was hanging from the beast's
panting maw. Owen filled his lungs with gasps of terrified air, but the
monster just licked his face like a puppy. The monster then simply wrapped
itself around him and went to sleep.

He took a brief moment to calm his nerves, and then examined the thing more
closely. It was a wolf, he thought, about the size of a Kodak Grizzly on
anabolic steroids. But the strange thing was that its body seemed more suited
to bipedal motion than quadrupedal, as though it were more used to standing
up on its hind legs. It seemed as though it could not possibly exist. No
amount of food could keep this beast alive for an extended amount of time, it
was just too big.

Its fur was lustrous and Owen felt it with a tentative hand, marvelling at
the smooth texture of the fine, unmatted hairs. The beast gave a contented
rumble and the thick tail that curled around its front paws began to thump
the ground enough to shake the logs in the fire. It opened its eyes again and
looked into Owen's brown ones. There was something about the colour of those
orbs that Owen couldn't help find familiar. Images of Fenris laughing flashed
through his mind. Those soul-piercing fragments of sapphire that had dazzled
him when they had first met. The truth hit Owen like a freight train.

"Freddie? Is that you?" He saw a brief flicker of sadness. "It is you
Freddie. Well at least I know you're not an alien."

***

Finally! I was wondering how to make it not completely cliched, but these
days everything's a cliche.

Remember to feedback at bienclar@yahoo.com