Rogue Medieval Novels & Stories

My heart thumps faster. I know immediately: she is awake in ways I cannot see. She is stirring, little threads of wolf seeping through. I bite my lip. I know this means risk. Exposure. The faintest slip could let everything I’ve built shatter in seconds. My pulse hammers. I kneel down and lay my hands over the anchors I set around the house, the tiny charms and wards I scattered in careful, invisible patterns. They hum under my touch, barely. The magic is strained. My energy dips like ice water down my spine.

As he screams out, I drive the dagger into his chest and he falls to the ground. In general, rogues are weaker than wolves that belong to a pack. They don't have the strength that comes from the unity of being in a pack. Wolves are social creatures, and their wolves weaken significantly without that bond to an Alpha. Many rogues are on their own for years before they join other rogues, so they weaken a great deal. However, just because these rogues are weaker, they have the upper hand right now. With just four more to go, I can feel my body becoming sluggish. All my energy sources have been depleted in the last five weeks and I'm just running on pure adrenaline at this point.

Killing those who were supposed to be some of the best fighters in the pack always bought about a sense of happiness, knowing I was one step closer to being able to seek my revenge. In the ten years I had been living as a rouge the thought of actually meeting my mate was something which had crossed my mind on a couple of occasions, but they were brushed to the side as quickly as they came. At almost twenty-eight I had pretty much accepted that I was never going to find my other half and, even if I did find him now, then I would be sure to reject him. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous rogue," one of the males chuckled when they finally came to a stop where I was readying myself.

"Take her." They moved forward, but Zane stepped in front of me. "Try it." "You can't fight us all, Darius." "Want to bet?" A howl echoed through the forest. Then another. And another. Rogues emerged from the shadows. Dozens of them, surrounding the pack wolves. "You brought an army?" Alpha Thorne snarled. "I brought family." Zane smiled, all teeth. "The rogues you've been hunting? They're mine. Every last one."

As I walk around the great room, it's obvious that certain packs in particular are missing- the Rogue packs. Instead of having different alphas for every pack, they are all run by a king who calls himself "King of the Rogues." I can't help but roll my eyes, anybody who chooses to go by that name probably has a bigger ego than Caleb. Nobody knows what he looks like since few have ever lived after encountering him, his reputation violent and messy. He never shows up to these events despite receiving the invitations. Most alphas would prefer him as a business partner rather than an enemy.

“And of course, you don’t want to mark me because you don’t want to take your throne back.” “I don’t know what I want to do yet. I have no support. No army. It’s not that easy.” “What about these rogues Monty spoke about? What is a rogue anyway?” “A rogue is a packless wolf. It’s not that easy. Rogues aren’t warriors. By the time I have them trained and ready for a war, Caspian would know and we’d all be dead. Well, not you and me…we’d only wish we were dead.”

Rogue replied and casted healing on Lucifer, healing the injuries she gained during the war. The duo stood up and hand in hand, their eyes were staring directly at the elite pilgrims, they had a job to do and that was to end the war. Nodding, they dashed at Barbatos and Sariel, separating the two. Rogue took Barbatos and the rest of the elite pilgrims while Lucifer took on Sariel. ********** Rogue stood before the members of the elite pilgrims, his face devoid of emotions and a sword made from a dragon's scale manifested in his palm. He had no words for them, he had to kill them immediately without wasting time.

His gaze holds mine for several seconds before he looks down at his drink. I chew the inside of my cheek while wondering if I should start asking him questions about his time as the King of the Rogues. Everyone knows the history, of course. The Roguelands was… nothing back then. A deep, dark forest. Dark enough to hide in. Dark enough to disappear in. He gathered an army there out of misfits, bandits, and slaves. He ruled as king when there wasn’t anyone to rule. He overthrew an evil regime with forces whose training was nothing more than a life of survival in the same forest I’ve called home for so long. He understands. He’s still the king there, in some shape or form… at least, until Maeve

As we arrived at the north end, I was surprised to see four very strong looking rogues standing in front of us. They were not the traditional looking rogues. Rogues were typically weak, scrawny, and often had a stench about them. A stench that was the usual way to identify a rogue. These rogues did not have a scent of any kind. Something was off. I shifted, and grabbed a pair of shorts, as each of the four rogues stood naked in front of us.

“I’m glad you like it so far. With every passing day, I’m sure you’ll like it even more. But tomorrow, after your tour with Christianna, I will show you where to take shelter if rogues attack.” “Ok…” I mumbled. “Will you tell me now what rogues are?” “Rogues… Well yeah. Rogues are werewolves who were banished from their Alpha or refused their own pack. At first, they live like plain humans, but when they give in to their wolves and shift, they become feral and lose themselves. They never return to their human forms again. Lost and disorientated, they gather up in little packs of two or three because wolves can’t live alone. Some rogues take simple wolves into their pack just to gain strength