Lycantis: Rage of Wolves by Malaena Medford (kiss me liar novel english TXT) 📕

The roar from the hall could be heard from far away; it shook the foundation of the building and made the trees tremble. Milavenai felt euphoric, everything was surreal and the sound became almost distant… It was too distant. She felt odd, as if something was horribly wrong. Her head felt light as she heard a ghostly cry coming from everywhere at once. A burning deep inside her arose, feeling like an enraged animal trying to claw its way out of her core. Phiuri looked at her, his smile fading as he saw her eyes become darkened, the pupils spreading all the way to her eyelids.

“ATTACK!! Everyone to arms!!” Phiuri bellowed, causing a slight panic.

Everyone rushed for the weapons lining the entrance to defend the town.

Milavenai drooped, then lifted her head and shook the feeling off. Her eyes were normal once more, but the whites were bloodshot. She looked around as her father helped her up.

“What is happening?” she asked.

They ran for her bow and his halberd as he said, “You sensed them again, it is getting stronger…I fear something terrible is about to happen.”

As they reached the open air, they could smell fire. In the darkness they could see a house not far from them was ablaze, and muffled screaming could be heard from inside. Phiuri bolted toward it, moving with the speed of an enraged wolf. He rammed through the doors with great strength, weakening the foundation.

“Father!” Milavenai shouted fearfully.

The house tilted, nearly collapsing onto the ground. From inside the door a figure slowly made its way out of the house. Phiuri carried a woman on one shoulder and two small children on the other. The woman was unconscious…or so Milavenai hoped. She ran to her father’s side as he set them gently on the ground. Arktus - a man from the hall - hurried over to the woman.

“Charysa! Oh, please wake up!” he said as he shook her. Then he placed his ear upon her bosom, listening for a heartbeat. He shook her anxiously, his gasping becoming hyperventilation as he sought a response from his beloved. The children woke as he did this. “Don’t die,” he sobbed, “oh, please Charysa, no!”

The woman sputtered, and then started coughing and hacking violently. He embraced her and his children, bawling and thanking the heavens.

Milavenai spotted movement in the trees.

“Over there!” she shouted to the other hunters.

The Blood Wolves maneuvered into the trees, Milavenai taking the left with a small group behind her. They heard yelling, a thud, and then a man cried out in pain. The team she was with split off toward the yells, but she stayed behind to look for any others. She heard a cracking to her left and darted off deeper into the trees, running stealthily, making almost no sound. She stopped to listen. There was the sound of stifled heavy breathing. She slowly moved toward it, treading carefully… Her first manhunt. The breathing finally stopped, but she continued toward where it had been coming from. Any movement would reveal the intruder’s location.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a man slashed at her face with a small dagger. She moved in time to receive only a small gouge on her chin. The man swung again, cutting through the cloth portion on her leather clothes and slicing her shoulder. She drew her own dagger and lashed out, lacerating the man’s arm and robes. He lunged, planting his blade into her shoulder.

The world around her went darker, everything seemed ethereal. She couldn’t black out now – he would kill her! Flashes of reality passed before her eyes, claws reaching for the robed man, then hands pummeling his face, then his chest. Blood coated her face in patches; it almost felt good to have it dripping down her skin.

She felt arms pulling her off the man as voices called her name. A hand from the group pulled the dagger from her shoulder and she cried out in pain. Slowly, her sight returned to normal, the fury felt as though it was seeping out. Her father held her by her arms, calming her with his words. Someone was staunching the blood from the wound.

“Mila, calm down. Come now, Honey Bee,” he cooed at his daughter. “That’s it…there, there.”

She blinked. Her breathing was strained and her shoulder was throbbing with pain. A slow heat enveloped it as it started to heal over - she healed faster than most people in the village. Everyone standing around them was looking at her in awe. The light of the moon illuminated the clearing like a bright beacon.

“What happened?” she managed to gasp out.

Phiuri looked around at the others, slightly confused.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asked. When she shook her head, he explained, “You were enraged…you broke half of the bones in his body and tore most of his skin to shreds.”

The look in his eyes was that of a man who had just seen a dragon eat a man in front of him. She had done damage most of the Blood Wolves could only hope to cause in their lives, but it had almost cost her her own. The other Wolves gathered the man up in a cloak and Phiuri lifted Milavenai to her feet. They walked toward the gathering hall as the rest of the clan worked to put the fire out with water from the well.

As they got the man into the hall, Milavenai spotted the other intruder hog‑tied and hanging from the rafters near the fire. Two fierce‑looking men stood on either side, watching him with utter hatred but slight amusement. The hunters with the other intruder set the torn man upon the table closest to his partner.

“What have you done to him?!” the man on the rafters shouted. “Jaed!”

The torn up assassin on the table, Jaed, moaned, indicating he heard but couldn’t move.

Phiuri slowly walked up to the one tied to the rafters, and then promptly threw a punch into his stomach that swung him back and forth. He stopped the man, who was now gasping for air, looked him in the eyes, and spat in his face.

He spoke with a deep, menacing tone, never raising his voice from a low growl to let the man know of his anger. “You almost succeeded in murdering my daughter, my only child. And to burn people alive is not human…have you no conscience? No loved ones?” The assassin looked at each of the men around him, gasping and swallowing the salty sweat around his lips. Phiuri grabbed his face, forcing him to look into his eyes, and spoke with an even more angry tone. “You are at the end of your master’s reign…because you chose to follow him you chose to end your own life.” Phiuri let him go, then walked over to the accomplice and continued, “As for your friend here, he should never have harmed my daughter. I didn’t have to do anything to return the pain…and I should let her have you as another prey animal to practice her fury upon.”

The man shook with terror. Phiuri had a way with his voice, making him sound more menacing than a lion going for a kill. There was an amulet around the dying man’s neck, which he took, examining it closely. He strode over to the pillar the man on the rafters was close to and swung a small knife deep into the upper portion, hanging the symbol on the handle.

“Anyone found with this symbol ANYWHERE on their person or garments will have a horrid, painful death, and there will be no mercy for them!” Phiuri announced to the Blood Wolves, all of whom now stood in the hall.

A roar came from the Blood Wolves and all who had been roused from the noise and the fire. The man on the rafters quaked with fear as his own blood ran down his body. His eyes were wide with fear of the leering crowd as they roared in the night. It was like being amongst a pack of rabid dogs or – like a pack of angry wolves.

Phiuri turned to the man. “Your friend will have the benefit of an early death, but you–” he thought a moment, then grinned menacingly and snarled, “you will be eaten alive beside the main fire pit. You would make a wonderful meal for my daughter’s kadakas.”

The man moaned and whimpered. He had a poison he desperately wished was not in his cloak on a table so far away from his reach. Phiuri noticed his glances toward the garment, and retrieved it to examine. Everyone became quiet as he frisked the cloak full length to find a small vial filled with a yellowish liquid.

“Poison, I assume?” Phiuri chuckled. “A coward’s way out.” He held it up for the crowd to see, gaining chortles and growling from the Hall. “You should not supply your enemies with a substance which can be used against you – it will make a fine component for our weapons when we hunt for your people.”

There were snickers and grins in the crowd. He threw the vial to a man with vials and pouches hanging from his outfit.

“Our apothecary will find your poison’s making and create more. Your stupidity is your weakness when you try to keep a people from living life without fear,” he growled.

He nodded at the apothecary, who nodded back and proceeded out of the hall. Phiuri motioned to the two guards who cut the lashings from the rafters, carrying the man out of the hall. He put his arm around Milavenai and helped her to the healer’s house. When they stepped inside they saw Arktus and Charysa at the other end of the large room. Arktus was applying a greenish‑black paste to her burns.

Eh’Atris - the village healer - hurried over to Milavenai. “What hap– My goodness! Your shoulder young lady! Who would do such a thing?!” he asked vehemently.

Phiuri calmed him. “They came again, the men in the dark burnt orange robes. They didn’t kill anyone. Little claws here managed to let one of them know how we feel about them.”

Eh’Atris huffed and shook his head. “Monsters…all of them monsters in my opinion.” He grinned a bit. “I saw you all carrying them around. Was wondering what on earth had happened. Come now, let’s see about this.”

He led them over to a bed with a small table next to it, where Milavenai gladly sat down and removed the outer clothing on her top. She was wearing a brown sleeveless shirt underneath, and there was a horrible slice and puncture on her right shoulder.

He clicked his tongue as he examined the wounds. “Oh, this won’t do… Your pretty skin doesn’t need awful marks like that. Only in real battle should we ever have trophies, not to vermin harassing innocents.” He dabbed at it with a cloth covered in a concoction of strong, stinging pine water and other herbs. “Just as I thought, it’s already healing over,” he remarked. He had always been amused with her outlandish healing, but had become accustomed to it. “I don’t think you will need any more help, just remember to stretch it every day after the wound is closed so it heals in the proper place,” he instructed as he stood and patted her head.

Two men walked in with the apparently dead intruder, setting him down on the examination table used for the deceased. One of them beckoned the healer over.

“Come look at our new decoration, he died a few seconds ago,” he said.

Eh’Atris walked over to the corpse to have a look. He gasped, “What– This– These are claw marks…”

He looked at Milavenai. “What did you use to attack him, a lion?” She smiled at him slightly but was confused herself. “Well, not