Stallion Mage: True Mates: Mpreg Romance

by AO Spade

  The mage trotted through the brittle grass. For once, he was thankful for his smaller size because the land could sustain him more easily than someone larger. If Nassor had attempted the journey, he'd have turned back out of thirst by this time. Ferro would have bolted, too afraid to stay outside of the camp. Cantril would have refused to leave at all. Elder Mastok would do it, though.

  Alvarr did not know if he was going the right way. He followed the line of the sun as it moved from horizon to horizon to make sure he was not traveling in circles. Aside from that, he had no guidance. He had pleaded with Nature to guide him, but he never received an answer, not a guiding current of energy or a glow from his horn. Alvarr only knew that he was traveling far beyond where anyone else in his tribe had gone. Even the birds of the forest had fled the dead wood, and he'd heard not a stir of brush nor the singing of insects.

  But there was a peace here, the peace of accepting the truth of his isolation. He knew he might never return. Though he'd just seen his tribe a short time ago, the distance between them was greater than the land he had covered.

  Alvarr kept a steady efficient trot through the tall grass, stopping to graze on the dry blades. They tasted different, with an underlying hotness on his tongue. I'll call it hotgrass. He still had found no water, but gleaned a few drops from what shreds of green he could find.

  The grass thinned and became short, sharp stems forcing themselves up through a crust of bare earth. Shrubs with unfriendly leaves and thorns grew low to the ground. Evening turned the shadows purple, and the sun blazed a final red glare before it sank below the horizon. Alvarr smelled the change in the cooling air immediately, and waited for the night-fear to tug at him. Nothing.

  He looked around for somewhere to shelter, but there was nothing, just a few small, head-high trees with twisted roots, clinging to life in the dry land. Even their shadows were thin.

  They are better than nothing. Alvarr started toward the small protection of the trees, but the evening wind rose, bringing a strange, wild scent to his nose, a hot scent of life, but not one that Alvarr wanted. Sweat and flesh. A predator.

  He'd never smelled one before, but he knew what it was: someone who could hurt him. Alvarr's coat twitched, and all the hairs along his spine raised. He slowed to the quietest gait he could, lifting each hoof up and setting it down in a slow rhythm. Every few steps, he'd hold his breath and swivel his ears around, trying to find the source of the animal's smell. But the wind blew it away, and he could not hear even the slightest sound out of the ordinary. Full night was coming on fast, and he could not see much around him. He was out in the open, undefended.

  Then, the mage remembered to look down. There, imprinted deeply through the dust, he could make out distinct tracks. They were round, yet split down the middle, and far bigger than his own. Another being lived here, somewhere, though he couldn't see where. He turned around, walking back toward the slim shelter of the trees.

  When they were in sight, a growly voice sounded from directly ahead. "Who? Who?"

  Alvarr froze, his hooves rooted to the ground. His horn gave no light to help him see. He held his breath as two flickering eyes emerged from the trees' shadows. Then, the rest of the being came into view, slightly shorter than the mage, but much more powerfully built.

  "A-ah," Alvarr gasped. The smell of the being overpowered him and made his heart thunder, yet his legs refuse to move. He stepped backward and reached out with his mind for help, but Nature's energy, flowing sluggishly beneath his feet, did not stop for him.

  The being advanced. Its steps crushed the earth, and a crude intelligence shone from its eyes. Tusks protruded from a long snout, which pointed toward the mage as the creature stalked forward on thick legs that ended in huge hooves.

  It weighs more than me. "Hello," Alvarr said. His voice sounded thin, swallowed up by the night and the terrain. Despite wanting to not show fear, he shuffled backwards. "Can you shift?" Alvarr asked. "Do you have a man-shape?"

  The creature just rumbled low in its throat, a deep, frightening sound. Its eyes flashed with green nightshade, then orange. And then it pointed its tusks toward the mage.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A Test of Blood

  ALVARR FOUGHT TO stand his ground, but his hooves kept moving him backward, and his ears were pinned back to his head.

  The creature's eyes winked. "Oo, oo," it grunted.

  What is it saying?

  "Ooo." It gave a loud ugly snort and swung its head from side to side as though it was trying to dislodge a wasp.

  It wasn't asking, "Who?" It is a non-shifting beast, and I am in its domain.

  If he just left, would the creature go back to its sleep? The mage backed away, head turned away so that he did not look directly in the creature's eyes. This shall shelter was occupied, but Alvarr could find another. He was not yet tired. There had to be somewhere else he could rest, somewhere far from here.

  He continued to step backward. The creature stayed rooted to its tracks, breathing harshly, occasionally shaking its head in that violent way, but did not chase him.

  Alvarr backtracked for a few more minutes before he changed direction. Even then, his senses were hype-alert, and his shoulders couldn't relax until the scent of the creature had faded.

  Thank Nature. Ahead was a pile of stones that could serve as a crude shelter, at least on one side. The mage walked toward the rock formation, trying to place his hooves silently, but gravel and small rocks crunched under his feet.

  He paused and opened his mouth to taste the air. The evening wind had died down, making it hard to detect any other beings or beasts in the area. He didn't want to make himself vulnerable by resting, but it was worse to travel at night. And, without water, Alvarr needed to conserve his strength.

  He approached the formation of stones. They were jagged, as though they had been ripped out of the earth and tossed there by a great force, not like the rounded boulders by the river. The moonlight lit their top ragged faces, but most of the rock was deep in shadow that could hide any number of dangers.

  The mage swallowed. "Hello?" he whispered, hoping he would not hear any grunts or growls. Only silence answered. Alvarr's hooves clacked against a pebble, and he jumped to the side as it skittered. He gave himself a shake. No sense jumping at nothing like a colt, he scolded himself. Panic would cause accidents.

  The mage made himself move forward. Closer, closer he came to the shadowed pile. No eyes shone, no shapes scuttled. When he saw nothing lurking there, he breathed a sigh of relief. The sharp rocks would not make a comfortable resting spot, but perhaps he could change to man-shape and move them with his hands. Unless Nature will help me shape the earth. He sent out a thought, but as before, Nature flowed as though it did not know one of its mages was there.

  He stood back to shift, when something -- a change in the air, the faintest sound -- warned him to stay on four legs. And then a blunt weight slammed into his side.

  He stumbled and his leg twisted beneath him as he fell to his knees. There was pain, but mostly, there was shock. This was the first injury he'd ever had. Now he knew: he truly was without Nature's protection.

  There is no time to wonder why. Get up, Alvarr told himself. Get up now. He ignored the stab of pain in his knee and made him face whatever had knocked him off balance. His spirits sank, but he wasn't surprised. It was the beast. And I am probably lame.

  Even if he hadn't been injured, the area was covered with loose rocks, and he didn't trust his eyesight in the dark. The beast, though, was clearly a night predator.

  It jerked its massive, shaggy head. "Oo, oo, oooo." With a sound like a branch cracking, it opened its jaw wide, showing long yellow teeth and curved tusks. Then, it looked straight at the mage and snapped its teeth together, over and over.

  Alvarr moved back, hoping at least to draw it out into the brightest area. As the beast followed him, something dropped from its mouth. It was salivating, and the rank bloody scent of its breath reached him.

&nb
sp; This creature wants to eat me. If it charged from the side, Alvarr would have no chance. The tusks would pierce his coat easily and rip into the flesh underneath. And that terrible snout would root around in his insides, until it found his soft stomach, his organs.

  A hot wave of fear streaked through him, breaking the predator's spell. "No!" he shouted, scrambling backward over the rocks. His hooves slipped in the loose gravel. He had to get farther away, otherwise the beast would corner him against the rocks. He was fast, at least. The beast would probably give up long before the small stallion did.

  The beast danced from stiff leg to leg, and sharp bristles fanned out along his neck. With a horrible high squeal, it charged at Alvarr's chest.

  It was fast, faster than the mage could outrun. Alvarr whipped himself into a curved shape, and most of the impact glanced off him. Still, he felt the beast's raw strength and weight. I could die out here. He could not concentrate, but even if he reached for Nature's protection, he knew he would find no help.

  Nervous sweat coated his neck and back, wasting precious water, and letting the beast smell his fear.

  Again, the animal ran toward him, mouth open, aiming its tusks toward the mage. Alvarr pivoted on his rear legs and struck with his front hooves, the way he'd seen fighting stallions do. His two hooves impacted the slippery, tough hide, and he shuddered at being so close to this strange beast. Then, his front legs slid off. He had done no damage, but the beast was enraged. It screamed and pawed the ground, head lowered to strike again.

  This time, he tried to run, but Alvarr was not fast enough. One of the tusks caught his side. The sharp point pierced and tore his coat without effort, leaving a jagged gash. Bright pain streamed from the wound, and the scent of his own blood made him sick.

  Pure, dumb terror descended on the mage. He ran, though he had no hope of surviving, streaking over the ground, uncaring of the direction. The mage's hooves pounded so fast Alvarr was afraid his rhythm would shake apart and he would break his weakened leg. But behind him, he could hear hungry, eager grunts.

  This creature will run itself to death in the hunting frenzy. But Alvarr would run himself to death in fear. Blood left an easy trail for the beast to follow, and the ground was flat and open with nowhere for the mage to hide.

  His side felt like it was on fire with every breath the mage took. The knee he'd twisted sent pain branching through more and more of his leg. He still heard the beast behind him, keeping pace with him.

  Alvarr would not give up, but without Nature's help, he was lost out here. Soon, he would slow; his injuries would weaken him. Even if the beast gave up, what about the wound in his side? As a mage, as one close to Nature, he knew. He was alone, and he was going to die.

  So it goes. Alvarr lifted his head to take in his last full look at the stark beauty of the world around him. The moon, the cracked earth, the small brown trees clinging to life, and the hills he would never reach.

  The knowledge will not end with me, he thought, for I have found nothing. The Elders… they could send someone else to find his body. Maybe. Alvarr coughed as he ran, pain leeching into his chest. What little he had done in his life, he had been proud of. Giving his energy to Barron and Nassor, find a place among the Elders. Laren did not care for him, but Alvarr sent a final thought his way.

  The thundering steps of the beast gained on him, close enough for the mage to smell its sweat and meat-eater's breath. He did not want his life to end here, but Nature would take all of them, in the end. It was the balance.

  Alvarr kept his head down as he galloped along the terrain, increasingly unsteady. He didn't dare look back. Let the end take me by surprise. Let it not be said that I gave up. He prepared himself for the beast's sharp tusks to pierce his flanks and bring him down.

  But he couldn't accept it. Because running through his mind was the knowledge that he did have one thing left to attempt. He just didn't know if he could make himself do it.

  It's forbidden. This action was more than just forbidden; it was impossible. As an earth mage, one who asked Nature for growth and life, who could shape the earth itself, he had always believed that he could not harm another.

  Alvarr's foot twisted on the ground, and it broke his momentum. He faltered, and his legs refused to run anymore. His heart thundered so powerfully that he could feel his entire body shake with each beat as weakness caught up to him. On numb legs, he shuffled to face his oncoming attacker. It is so close.

  With shining eyes, the beast lowered its head to pierce straight through Alvarr's chest. As it got within just one length of the mage, he moved to the side. The beast rushed past and slowed, readying itself for another attempt. Though it probably would not change the outcome, Alvarr lowered his head, aimed himself toward the beast's unguarded side, and ran with the last of his strength.

  His horn pierced the tough bristles and sank far into the creature body. Alvarr's horn met little resistance, and his forehead pressed right up against the beast's hot, damp side. He smelled the animal's odor of sweat, oil, and now blood.

  It shuddered, as though unable to process what was happening. Then, an ear-splitting scream came from its throat, vibrating its body. It trembled and made an awkward shuffle to get away from the thing impaling its inner flesh.

  I have wounded it. I have caused it harm. But instinct made Alvarr pull back until his horn came free, smeared with the beast's blood. His legs threatened to buckle, but he locked his knees and struck again, sinking in as deeply as he could, aiming for the beast's heart.

  This time, the creature's sides lurched as it coughed, a wet thick sound that Alvarr heard from far too close. It wheezed for breath, knees folding, and fell over, almost pulling the mage down with its heavy weight.

  Alvarr whipped his head back and forth to free himself. Hot blood dripped from the base of Alvarr's horn, trickling down his forehead and nose. He shook his head over and over to dash it away, but some stayed, sticking to his coat and mane, keeping the scent of death in his nose.

  He walked a wide circle around the beast. It lay in the dry ground on its side, but it did not get up. Whistling air came from its chest and open mouth, and its legs stuck out from its body as though they were useless. The eyes shone in the dark, still fierce, still desiring Alvarr's death.

  Alvarr crept close enough to smell the change in its breath: sweet and strange. It is dying. It seemed to have no sense anymore, no idea that Alvarr was there. I have done this, he thought, but instead of the regret he expected, a cold determination settled into his belly.

  He stayed on his feet and watched as the beast's body gave up its last hold on life.

  As it breathed out, a dark pool of blood spread out underneath it in a widening circle. Alvarr watched with the ancient understanding given to all Nature's creatures. It had only been following its instincts. As did I. The mage had come out the victor, this time. And I would do it again.

  Alvarr approached the dead creature and touched it with his bloodied horn. I honor you as part of Nature.

  He stepped away and was about to leave, when he heard a soft crackling coming from the beast's body. It was sound of earth expanding. Of something burrowing underground.

  A single dark tendril of black wood pushed its way through the blood-soaked ground. As Alvarr watched, it grew up the beast's corpse. Fine thorns emerged from its stem, gripping the shaggy fur and hide, and leaves unrolled in the moonlight. Though it should not have been possible, a dark bud formed at the end.

  Alvarr reached out with his energy to touch it, and discovered that it was exactly what it seemed: a plant. But it was not his power. It was all Nature's doing.

  The bud unfolded its petals, and to the mage's surprise, a clean, light scent came from it. Another flower twined up, and then another, until the beast's body was covered in a mound of thorns and blossoms.

  Flowers, born of blood and flesh. Could such a plant survive out here? Even in good seasons, it probably received little rain. But many things die.

 
Alvarr bowed his head. The air dried the last traces of sweat on his coat, and a coolness settled on him. The beast had been a danger, but it was another living thing. Now, the mage was completely alone. The stillness of night had settled on the dry plains. The large mound that used to be a creature would decompose, its bones perhaps the only trace that it existed.

  No one is here.

  And in this place where he answered to no one, Alvarr had killed. There was still blood on his face and horn. He was not the person he thought he was. His actions would have drawn the tribe's disgust and fear, even if it had been to survive. Without anyone else, could he truly know himself? Can anyone?

  He did not want to move anymore that night, but he could not stay. Alvarr started walking again, choosing the dark, vague shape of hills in the distance as his guide. I have no idea where I am. I have no idea where I am going. His mad flight from the creature had taken him in an unknown direction. Without the sun, he had lost his direction.

  His torn side and wrenched leg hurt, but he did not think they were getting any worse. The blood had dried. He could still continue.

  With a slow gait, he found he could doze a little while his legs still moved. In this way, he continued until the sky flushed with the first streak of dawn.

  Well into the next day, Alvarr's instincts drove him out of his slumbering walk to eat. He had to, or his body would have no energy to use. With distaste, he looked at the brown, dry grass growing in short small clumps, and the dead shrubs' twisted shapes. His mouth became drier just thinking about chewing through the tough vegetation.

  Ahead of him, there was green on the hills, but they seemed no closer than when he had started walking. He should at least try.

  Alvarr bent his head and took a mouthful of dried stalks. It tasted like he was chewing sticks. Still, a hint of sweetness came from them, and he made himself swallow the sharp mass. Toughgrass, that's what I'll call this.