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Alright guys, my new series. It's a fantasy story, to get that cleared up right now. Swords and armor and magic and such, so don't be shocked. I set this as adult because this WILL have adult stuff in it, just not in the this. This is the first time I've dabbled in Fantasy, so it might take a bit for me to get used to the writing style that I'll be using, but I will eventually. Anyways, enjoy.

**

Deep in the Forest of the Blood, known by very few that weren't in the ancient Order of the Blood, thirteen wolves in black cloaks stood, hoods up and chanting an incantation. One wolf stepped forward, white fur flashing in the brief glint of moonlight that shone through the trees.

The circle closed behind him, still chanting as if nothing had happened, and the wolf pulled a thin bladed dagger, the blade curved and made of steel with charms engraved in it. It was a fine piece of workmanship and a shame to have to use in such a dirty ritual.

He raised his arm, letting the sleeve of his cloak fall back to reveal a white-furred arm, crossed with scars from doing this ritual multiple times. He held his arm over the basin in the middle of the clearing, a basin filled with the clear, magic waters of the Blood.

He brought the knife to his arm, muttering a quick spell to heat the blade, and then, cut his arm once, letting the small drop of blood drip into the water. The water rippled, more than it should have for one drop, and it turned blood red as more drops dripped into it steadily.

The wolf added another cut to his arm, more blood flowing into the basin, and then he dropped the knife. With the addition of the knife, the water boiled, rising into the form of another... creature. No one was really sure what creature appeared, only that it wore a cloak the color of bloody, freshly exposed to the oxygen filled atmosphere.

The creature was male, however, and his voice sounded like the rasp of steel on leather. "Why have you called me here this wonderfully evil night?" the creature hissed.

The wolf collapsed to his knees, pulling his hood back as he fell, revealing his white-furred face with a long, pink scar running down it, crossing his eye and making his face uglier than it already was. His green eyes were meek as they could be, no one stood in the presence of their master, and no one looked him in the eyes.

The circle did the same, muttering, "My lord."

"My lord," the wolf said, his voice showing the meekness in his eyes for fake, "the woman has entered labor, and the boy is being born as we speak."

"Good," that leathery voice rasped, "send your men as soon as possible. I want the child and the woman dead before first light."

"It has already been done my lord," the wolf said, "a company of my best men left an hour ago. We didn't know how long the ritual would take, and we thought it was best to be safe."

The creature nodded and said, "You have done well." The creatures paw was a flash as it grabbed the wolf's cloak, and pulled him close to the creatures face. The wolf stared in horror at the scaled paw that held him, "You know the price of failure."

The wolf stared at his lord, who had just revealed his species as being a dragon, and said, "I would never fail you, my lord."

"Good," the dragon rasped, "I expect to be summoned tomorrow night as well, and I expect good news."

"Of course, my lord." The wolf said quickly.

The dragon dropped the scared wolf, his form already disappearing back into the water, and as his body sank, the water turned clear again. When the dragon was fully gone, the wolf released a breath he had not realized he had been holding.

"Let us hope, by our god, for good news." One of his companions said.

"Yes," the wolf said, "let us hope. Hope that our god has not abandoned us." The hope was small, and steadily dying.

**

Somewhere in the night, the wailing shriek of a new born baby's cries broke the silence, causing a large, armored black wolf to look up, staring at the tent flaps expectantly. A moment later, a soldier stepped into the tent, a Lieutenant by the colored stripes on the cloth tied to his upper arm, and bowed. "My Lord," he said quietly, "your wife has given birth to a son."

"Good," the wolf said, standing up and donning the cloth that marked him as a General. "Gather your company Lieutenant, and take my wife and son to my mother's farm."

The Lieutenant looked up, startled, and said, "Why?"

The General looked up at the moon and said, "It is a dangerous night tonight, and something is going to happen. I don't want my wife and son to be here when it does."

"Yes, my lord," he said, saluting the General.

As he was about to leave, the General gripped the Lieutenant's arm and pulled him back, putting his head against the Lieutenant's, and saying, "Maslan, keep my family alive, and on my son's eighteenth birthday, take him to be trained. He is to be king after I die, and he absolutely has to stay alive."

Maslan was startled by the use of his name and covered it by bowing, "Yes, my lord. I will keep your family alive as if they were my own."

"Lieutenant," the General said, "you are my only hope."

"I will keep them alive, my lord." Maslan said.

The General watched Maslan go before he started his circuit through the camp, shouting for men to get prepared for battle. He didn't know how many were coming, or how long it would be before they were there, but he knew something was coming, and by the gods he was going to be ready for it.

**

Maslan and his men rode hard, the General's wife and son in a carriage, bouncing around as much as any of the men on horses. "Scouts! Do your job."

Men broke off, some moving to the rear and others going forward. He was going to keep the General's child safe. Even though they weren't lovers any longer, his oaths to the General in those heated moments still stood.

**

The Lieutenant of the Company sent by the Blood, Lieutenant Rholes, rode his troops hard, trying to get to the camp of his enemies before they became aware of him. His hopes were destroyed when he heard the snapping of twigs, most likely an enemy sentry, and the sound of an arrow being released.

He turned to see a few of his men pulling a dark-furred wolf from the brush, an arrow through his heart. He still breathed, but he wouldn't for long. Rholes dismounted from his horse and walked over to where they were sitting the wolf against a tree.

Rholes gripped the wolf's chin in his paw and forced it up, "I'm assuming they are close, yes?"

The growled and spat at Rholes, "I wouldn't tell you if you were standing in the middle of them, you Blood sworn bastard."

Rholes grinned maliciously, "We will find them eventually. And the boy won't survive long after that."

The wolf's eyes widened and he said,"How did you..."

Rholes cut him off by stabbing his dagger into his throat. "Leave the body," he commanded. "We have better prey to hunt."

The wolves surrounding him rubbed their paws together eagerly, all except for his personal guard, how looked at him once before their eyes turned to search the trees around them again. Forever vigilant, they wouldn't fail at their job short of dying. And if they did fail... Well, they would die anyways.

Rholes raised his head to sniff the air and caught the scent of wood smoke, coming from the west. "Let's move!" Rholes ordered, "Mount!"

Men scrambled to mount their horses and Rholes moved quickly as well. "The night is almost over," he shouted to his men, "and our enemies won't see another day."

A few of the fool men got ready to howl before they were hit on the back of the head by more sensible squad members. But Rholes had to admit, none of the fools were sensible enough for him. They were there to die, and that's what they would do.

He wheeled his horse around and kicked it to a gallop, the company of wolves following closely behind, in neat ranks. Blood shall be drawn this night, he thought, God of Death, let it not be mine.

**

The rows of men shuffled uneasily as they waited for the Blood to come. They knew what direction they were coming from, and that it was only one company, but most of the Blood were battle mages, and they only had one. The General was that mage, and he sat, sniffing for the bitter sweet smell that would signal the use of magic.

He caught the smell, and looked towards it, letting magic rush into him, letting the sweet feel of ice mix with his blood and nerves as he used a spell and struck where the magic had been used last. Fire roared through the trees, and the men nearest him shifted uneasily as they felt the magic on their skin.

They couldn't smell it, but they could feel it. To them, it would feel like grease was being poured down their fur. To a mage, it would cause fur to stand on end. He used a shield spell to block a lightning bolt that struck at them, and the company of blood rushed from the forest, charging towards his ranks.

Maslan, he thought, get them to the farm safely.

With that, he threw himself into the battle, the rest of his soldiers joining in. It wasn't easy to fight and maintain the shield at the same time, and even with the shield men died to magic fire and lightning. He knew he would live this night, but his wife and son... he was not so sure.

**

Maslan grimaced as he removed the arrow from the assailant's eye. The wolves surrounding him panted and gasped for breath. They had met a small squad of blood, but that had been enough. His men were well trained, but not as well as the men they had fought.

The sun broke the dark on the horizon by the time they had tended the wounded, and they were moving again. Maslan looked back in the direction of the camp. I pray for you General.

Eighteen years until he would see the General next, and he would protect his son as if he were his. For the general.

**

Again, my first fantasy, so this may not be the best piece, but it will get better, I promise ;)

And for those who are wondering, this will be an M/M story in the future.