Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

The Urge and The Call

When Alvarr awoke, purple evening shadows darkened the tent, and the low murmurs of all the Elders reached his ears.  He sat up.  Older voices murmured from farther inside the tent.

He heard a weak, thin voice.  "I need to leave."  Alvarr recognized the speaker; it was Barron, still confined to the healing tent because of his injuries. 

"Hush," a raspy Elder replied.  "You are still weakened."

A large figure came toward Alvarr -- Elder Sevan, a broad-chested older man with wild brown hair streaked with iron gray.

"He's awake, Mastok," Elder Sevan called softly.  Then he touched Alvarr's forehead with thick, scarred fingers, muttering.

Elder Mastok hurried over.  "How are you feeling, young mage?" he asked.

Before Alvarr could reply, he heard the ringing sound of a horn.  It sent a thrill through him.  The sound was cold and clear, like a wind blowing over a field.

"Ah, it's time," Elder Sevan said with a mixture of peace and sadness.  "The tribe gathers, but those of us who are old and unwell must stay behind." 

"Stallion tribe," came Laren's voice from somewhere outside.  "Stallion tribe, assemble."  The horn sounded again, and then the ground trembled with the pounding of hooves.

Alvarr swung his legs over the side of the pallet and made to stand, but Elder Sevan stopped him.  "You cannot go out there.  You are not well." 

"I know.  I only want to look," Alvarr said. 

"It will be fine, Sevan," Elder Mastok said, and helped the mage up with a strong grip.  "I will come, too.  We can wait outside the tent and have a clear view."

As Alvarr took a few steps, his legs and feet tingled with the earth's energy.  He gasped.  "Elder, my feet…"

The old man put a steady arm around the mage and helped him outside.

It was nearly dark, and the clear sky was full of stars.  The stallions were just shadowy shapes milling around in a large group, swishing their tails and pawing the ground.  No one spoke except the leader, who changed from his man-shape to his massive equine form.

"Stallion tribe," Laren said, standing tall and proud among his people.  "The Time of Mating is upon us, and we go forth to the Breeding Fields."  Moonlight shone upon his gray coat, making the leader look like he was made of silver. 

"We will sire many foals, and our dwellings will be bursting with new brothers in just a few short years," Laren said. 

If what the Elder had told him about the tribe was true, they had lost so much.  What had it been like before the rift?  The dark shapes of their simple dwellings spread out in a circle around the camp.  It had always seemed like enough, but what if this was just a small amount of what had been?

"Our people must continue to grow strong with each season," the leader continued.

Alvarr had a vision of a great settlement with many tents like the healing hut, but even bigger.  Ceilings that reached high into the sky, and so many that it would look like a sea of white when seen from a high peak.  And many in their man- and woman-shapes, building things with their clever hands.

Compared to that, the way they lived was just… survival.  How could he, too, bring their people toward greatness?  The mage stamped his foot on the earth.

"What is it?"  The Elder held tight to his arm in support.

"Nothing," said Alvarr.  "I'm all right."