by H. D. Gordon
Moon Battle
The Wolf Wars Series: Book 4
H. D. Gordon
Copyright © 2018 H. D. Gordon
Published by H. D. Gordon Books
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
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Contents
Introduction
Moon Battle
1. Rook
2. Nahari
3. Ryker
4. Rook
5. Rook
6. Rook
7. Adriel
8. Rook
9. Nahari
10. Ozias
11. Rook
12. Aysari & Eryx
13. Nahari
14. Ozias
15. Aysari & Eryx
16. Rook
17. Adriel
18. Nahari
19. Ozias
20. Adriel
21. Rook
22. The Erl Queen
23. Ryker
24. Ozias & Nahari
25. Rook
26. Rook
27. Nahari
28. Rook
29. Rook
30. Rook
31. Nahari
32. Rook
The End
Dear Reader,
Moon of Fire Sneak Peek
Story Summary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Moon of Fire, available now
Also by H. D. Gordon
About the Author
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Story Summary
Death did not scare a Dog; a Dog walked hand-in-hand with it.
The time has come for Rukiya Moonborn and the Wolves to rise up, to take their freedom and face the Pack Masters.
But the Alphas will not go down without a fight. They are gathering the full force of their armies, and even with the help of Adriel and his band of diverse warriors, wrestling the power from their paws will not be easy.
The fate of the Wolf Realm depends on the outcome.
For better or for worse, the final battle is here.
Moon Battle is the final book in The Wolf Wars Series.
1
Rook
Free the Dogs, kill the Masters.
The mission was simple, and time was short.
A glance out the window revealed the sun setting over the lake, the water glowing blood red with the reflection. The color reminded me of the Firedrakes, of the vibrancy of the flames they’d spewed as I’d raced through their home with their treasure tucked under my arm.
The Savior’s Stone.
We still didn’t know what it was, or what it did, or why the Seers had wanted it so badly.
You have no idea what you have done, one of the Drakes had told me, and the words had haunted me ever since.
“Do we have everything we need for the spell to remove the collars?” Bakari asked.
Akila, the Harpy warrior, answered, “Everything save for the Elderflower, but we know where to get some.”
“Where?”
“The Fae Forest,” said Aysari and Eryx, the two Fae among us, at the same time. Their sweet voices were like a harmony of bells when they spoke simultaneously.
There also seemed to be a warning underlying the words. I’d read tales of the Fae Forest in the books in Mina’s library. It was a strange, dark realm where an ancient and malevolent queen ruled with an iron fist.
Not unlike the Erl Queen in the Dead Forest outside of Mina. Just thinking of the wench sent a shiver of fear and anger up my spine.
“Of course it’s the Fae Forest,” Asha mumbled. “Because it couldn’t just be a wildflower in our backyard.”
“I’ll go,” I said, the words falling out of me before I knew they were there. “To the Fae Forest to get the Elderflower. I’ll go.”
Silence. Adriel sat up a little straighter in his seat. He’d been quiet as the rest of us discussed things. Ever the listener.
“We’ll both go,” he amended.
“If the Fae Queen catches you in her land without her blessing, she’ll kill you,” Eryx warned.
The male Fae was usually reserved, allowing his mate, Aysari, to speak on their behalf, but I could see the fear in his eyes as he spoke, could hear the truth in his words. I didn’t know much about the Fae couple’s history, but I knew they were refugees in Mina, same as everyone else.
“We’ll be careful,” I said. “In and out. Get the Elderflower, come home, perform the spell to free the Dogs of their collars. Easy.”
The hut went silent once more. Beyond the open arches that served as windows, the sun continued to drown in the surface of the lake, nightbirds skimming over the waters and sending ripples in every direction.
It was strange, because we’d all been hoping to find a way to remove the magical collars around the Dogs’ necks for so long, and now that we knew how, the repercussions of doing so seemed to have frightened us.
Aysari said, “Okay, so we remove the collars. Then what? What about the Hounds, the cages, the pups? What about the pups?”
She was saying what we were all thinking. Removing the collars around the Dogs’ necks was one thing, but removing the chains around their minds would be another. Some would rise up, surely. But others… the ones who did not want to fight, or didn’t know how, or couldn’t because of the fact that they were still only puppies, they would be in even greater danger than they already were.
No one knew exactly how many Dogs the five Pack Masters owned collectively, and that didn’t count the uncollared house and field slaves.
And then there were the Hounds, of course.
What would the Pack Masters order their Hounds to do if we just broke the Dogs free of their collars?
They would order them to kill, of course, anyone who would stand against them. They would be punished for an action we’d taken, a choice we’d made.
“We have to find a way to warn the Dogs and the other slaves,” I told them, leaning forward in my seat, resting my arms atop the smooth wood of the table between us. “We have to prepare them, so when the time comes, they will know what to do.”
“Many will die,” Aysari said, her slanted eyes going distant, as if long ago memories were playing in her head.
“Many are already dying,” Asha snapped. “Better to have a choice. Fight and die in chains. Or fight and die for freedom. Seems simple enough to me.”
“Rukiya is right that they should be warned,” Adriel said calmly, giving me a slight nod. “While Rook and I go to get the Elderflower, you all divide the task of spreading the word throughout the five territories. Tell people who will tell other people. Tell them to be ready.”
Asha scoffed. “Word will reach the Pack Masters. There are spies and traitors everywhere. How the hell does it make sense to warn them of what we’re doing before we do it? This is war. There are no courtesies. Courtesies will get us all killed.”
Silen
ce again. I leaned back, wringing my hands under the table.
No matter what, there seemed to be no way to avoid the bloodshed.
I knew the Pack Masters and the Hounds well enough to know that if we did indeed remove the collars, the ones who would receive the most punishment were the weak ones, the ones too young, frail, or afraid to fight. The exact ones who needed our protection.
But on the other hand, some Dogs and slaves would rebel. They would fight, because they knew they had little to lose and much to gain. Death did not scare a Dog; a Dog walked hand-in-hand with it.
“At least with the collars off,” I said, my voice more steady than I felt, “they’ll have a choice. They can fight and run, or stay and die. It’s better than the one they’ve been given up until this point.”
I should know.
I looked at Asha, holding her gaze. She was my friend, but we disagreed. “We have to warn the slaves, Ash,” I said. “Not just the Dogs, but the Wolves who work in the houses and factories and fields.”
“And the working ladies,” Goldie added, pushing her chin out. “They should be warned, too. People will need to make plans.” Her blue eyes flicked to Asha. “It’s a risk we have to take.”
Asha’s jaw clenched, but she bit her tongue for once.
“We vote, then,” Adriel said. “We’ve already decided that we will indeed remove the Dogs’ collars once we get the Elderflower, but we must agree or disagree to warn the other slaves of our plans.”
No one argued. This was how we handled things. We counted on each other too much to do anything otherwise.
“All those in favor of warning the slaves about the upcoming removal of their collars, say aye.”
I spoke first. I understood that this was a risk, but it still felt like the right choice.
“Aye,” I said.
Goldie, who sat to my left, echoed, “Aye.”
Then came Aysari and Eryx. The Fae couple spoke in unison. “Aye.”
Bakari, the Angel: “Aye.”
And Akila, the Harpy warrior. “Aye.”
That left Asha and Adriel. But it was me who the Demon female stared daggers at. We’d grown close during my time in Mina, and on the adventure we’d gone on in order to obtain the answer to freeing the Dogs, but we differed here.
“You assholes are lucky I’m willing to die for you,” Asha said, glancing around the table at the others before settling her dark gaze back on me. “How will we know who to tell? How will we know who to trust? I can’t be the only one who sees the foolishness in this.”
I drew a slow breath, holding my friend’s dark glare. “Look for the good ones,” I said. “The good people… We both know they’re out there. We just have to find them, and warn them. As many of them as we can, so that they can be ready when the time comes.”
Asha was a skeptic when it came to the good in people, and hell, I had been one, too. But if there was one thing I’d learned while fighting giant snakes and scorpions and outrunning Firedrakes across the realms with her, it was that good people did exist, and they came in all shapes and sizes. Good people had saved our lives on that journey more than a couple times.
After a moment of intense staring, Asha sighed and shrugged, giving me a smile that I’d actually come to like. “You’re lucky I love your dumbass, too, Rukiya dearest,” the Demon said, using Adriel’s address for me. “So I guess we tell the slaves.”
Finally, all eyes turned toward Adriel, who nodded, running a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw and leaning back in his chair.
“We warn the slaves,” he agreed. “We’ll need their help if we want to take out all five Pack Masters and any Hounds who don’t surrender.”
“And then what?” Bakari asked. “Won’t other Wolves only rise up to fight for the position of Pack Master?” He looked between Goldie and me, the only two full Wolves at the table. “Is that kind of hierarchy not the way of your kind?”
Goldie answered, and the insightful nature of her response was nothing less than I’d expect of her. “That’s true,” she told the Angel. “But the Pack Masters have overlooked one important thing; we’re not just Wolves, we’re people, and clearly, this kind of system doesn’t work for the majority of us.”
“Well, I, for one, fucking hate people,” Asha grumbled, slumping down a little in her seat and removing a dagger to twirl around in her hand. “People are stupid.”
“And yet still worth saving,” Aysari said.
Asha rolled her eyes, but with a glance up at me, a constant reminder of the memories and the things we’d learned together, even the skeptical Demon had to agree.
“Yes,” she said with a sigh as heavy as the world. “Still worth saving, I suppose.”
2
Nahari
No one was coming for her.
No one would save her.
She should have known better than to try to take a shortcut through the Lower East Side. She should have heeded the warning in her gut. But her owner—a distant cousin of Ansen Ormen, the East Coast Pack Master, and all around asshole—was always punishing her for taking too long on her errands into town. Nahari didn’t think she could take another whipping so close on the heels of the last one.
The last one, when he’d whipped her for spilling his tea on the bearskin rug in his office. Her back still throbbed from it.
But that was the least of her worries at the moment, because while Nahari may have been broken long ago, she was still Wolf enough to know that she was being followed. Every one of her senses told her this. Someone was watching her. Perhaps more than one someone.
The sun-bleached buildings of Bayrine stood tall and looming all around her, the sun setting over the lands to the West, where the great Rho Mountain range stretched all the way down to the Southern Territory. This cast the seaside city into shadows, and the cool, salty air blowing off the water to the east stirred the low fog that had descended rather quickly.
The damned fog was the reason she’d had to take a shortcut in the first place; it was so thick that it had slowed her down, swallowing up the tops of the sun-bleached buildings and sticking to her cloak as she moved.
Just a little further. She could see the turn up ahead that would lead back to one of the more populated streets.
Just as the thought was flickering through her mind, a large figure stepped out of the shadows, materializing like a wraith. But Nahari’s nose told her that this was just another Wolf, if one that looked as though he wanted to swallow her whole.
She should never have come this way. A whipping was better than what this Wolf wanted to do to her. She needed only take one look at him to know that.
Clutching a dagger under her cloak, she tried to step around him, but he moved to block her, clucking his tongue.
“Hello, little Wolf,” the male crooned.
As he spoke, the stench of moonshine floated off his breath, and Nahari’s stomach clenched unpleasantly.
“Please, let me pass,” Nahari said. She wished her voice did not sound so sweet, so innocent, and utterly unintimidating. She wished she could be like her lost mother, who had burned with such defiant brilliance that the steady and strong tone of her voice alone would have made even this vagrant pause.
“I love your sweet voice,” she remembered her mother saying; one of the only things she remembered her mother saying, as Nahari had been only seven when the Slavers had found her. “Your voice is the envy of the Angels.”
The memory didn’t help at the moment, and certainly no Angel was envying her right now.
“Smile sweetheart,” the male said, coming closer. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” As the fog cleared around his face, Nahari could see the various scars there, and everywhere else. He was a Dog, then. But not just a Dog, a drunk Dog.
Nahari cursed the heavens for the whole of her wretched life, adjusting the grip on the dagger in her hands, still out of sight beneath her cloak.
Jab it into his neck if you have to, and then run, advised a voice
in her head. Her lips trembled at the thought of it. She didn’t know if she could.
The look in the drunk Dog’s glazed eyes told her she was about to find out.
Nahari opened her mouth, but there was no point in screaming. No one would care. No one would come to her rescue. So, instead, she shut it again and swallowed, trying not to choke on her fear.
She turned and ran. Years of being beaten into submission, of following orders without question, had made her into a coward.
She didn’t get far. Dogs were hardened fighters and killers. She was a house slave who had been stupid enough to take a short cut. And now she would pay for that.
Her feet left the ground as she was yanked backward, the collar of her cloak choking her and making her gasp. Fear spiked like spoiled cream in her stomach, threatening to overcome her. Now she did try to scream, but a foul-smelling hand clamped around her mouth, cutting off any noise that might have made it out.
The stench of sweat and blood—a particular smell that often clung to Dogs—surrounded her as a hard body pressed to her backside, a muscled arm going around her throat, the dagger in her hand forgotten.
“Shh,” the Dog breathed into her hair. “We can both enjoy this if you play nice.”
