by Tracy Falbe
“I will gather men on the morrow,” Krengar said.
“Don’t be a fool,” Thurzo snapped and stalked to a table where a decanter of wine always awaited him.
Krengar blinked and realized that his mouth had fallen open. “My Duke?” he said simply.
Wine burbled into a silver chalice and Thurzo took a soothing sip. “Sir Krengar, you’re trained to think in military strategy. Do you not sense a trick? A feint to make us do something we ought not to?” the Duke suggested.
The Duke’s turn of opinion baffled Krengar, but he suspected the cause of his leader’s reluctance. “My Duke, I know you don’t want to believe what has happened. I don’t want to either, and my role in it shames me, but most of all I know how these Devilish creatures throw out their charms like poison darts. Even I have felt it. Thal has a bearing about him, an authority. I’ll admit that a noble air surrounds him, but we must resist. Their magic makes us think them fair and our own knowledge foul.”
Thurzo finished his wine while he listened to the speech. “I’ll grant that Thal had a remarkable charisma when I met him,” he said.
Hope brightened the knight’s face because his master seemed to be coming back to his way of thinking, but Thurzo quickly crushed the fleeting feeling with his lordly authority.
“But,” he said and raised a finger that Krengar knew was the sign that a decision had been made. “I am a man who recognizes power in men. I know when one ought not to be trifled with, and, for my own sake, I must give Thal the benefit of the doubt, at least for a time. We shall give the people action. I’ll issue a generous bounty to any man that brings in any beasts. And they must be beasts by proof of fur. On my own soul, I can’t encourage the killing of men who others claim to be werewolves. And you, Sir Krengar, will organize hunting parties. Let the people see us doing all that can be done.”
He half expected an unpleasant rejoinder from his champion, but Krengar only dipped his head.
“As you say, my Duke,” he said, hating the relief that suddenly washed over him when he learned that he would not be confronting Sarputeen and Thal, at least not yet.
But his pride rallied for a scrap of compromise, and he said, “I must suggest that you take greater care in the protection of your person. Remember how Thal simply walked into your home? I believe those foreign musicians have exceeded your generous hospitality.”
“I’ll explain to Duchess Agatha that she should dismiss them,” Thurzo said.
“A prudent decision, my Duke,” Krengar said.
As he bowed away toward the door, Thurzo added, “Be mindful in your work. Other monsters are out there.”
Chapter 19. A Person Known to You
Pistol trotted up the stairs ahead of Thal and turned on the landing for his quarters, but Thal continued upward. Pistol followed slowly. “You sense that he does not wish to be disturbed,” Thal noted.
He considered that perhaps the time was not right. He was exhausted, and his temper might be fragile, but it was his father’s evasiveness that bothered him the most. Perhaps it would be best to let his temper flare. If his father wanted him to be pack leader, then sometimes the leader had to show his teeth.
Pistol wagged his tail approvingly.
The emotional support soothed Thal. “I may think tough thoughts but I’ll always feel the pup in front of him,” he confessed softly.
Pistol presumed to scratch on the door. Thal leaned forward and said, “Father, may I enter?”
He listened closely and heard the whistle of wind in an open window. He opened the door. Although he had feared to see his father collapsed on his bed, the man instead stood tall and straight. His back was to Thal, and he gazed across the alpine river valley like the stone guardian of the ancient waterway.
“Father?” Thal said again upon entering.
Slowly, Sarputeen leaned forward and placed his hands upon the cold stone sill. “Yes.”
Thal came alongside him and mustered a stern tone. “We must speak of strategy. My pack wants to know its purpose and I have no plan of attack. I would…appreciate your counsel,” he said.
Sarputeen absently scratched his stubbly head. “What? No condemnations for working the magic upon Altea?”
“Should I condemn you?” Thal countered.
Sarputeen shook his head. “She insisted. She had her reasons,” he said.
“She has told me of them,” Thal said, uncomfortable with her jealousy and the suspicion that she might have been right.
“I love her more than ever now,” he added, and Sarputeen’s eyes brightened happily.
“You could not hope for a better mate,” he said.
“Are you recovered from her making?” Thal asked.
“Yes,” his father said. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder and turned him away from the window. “I had not expected to make a werewolf again, but it was my pleasure. Perhaps I made extra potion for a reason. The spirit world can offer much guidance, and even I do not notice its influence always.”
“Is this why you have not told me of your plan for attacking Tekax? Because you’re waiting for inspiration?” Thal said.
“I’m preparing to ask the spirits for advice,” Sarputeen revealed. “But first, we must hear what Mileko has to share.”
“Of course,” Thal agreed eagerly. “I’ll fetch him.”
“Let us meet in my study,” Sarputeen decided, and they descended the tower.
Despite the shock and turmoil of the previous days, Thal felt relief to have his father at his side again. Sarputeen’s willingness to finally discuss their challenge brightened his mood considerably.
Once the three men were assembled, Sarputeen bade Mileko to tell what he had seen.
“Master, your rival possesses a strong fortress. The place is old but its design remains largely impregnable,” Mileko said.
“But you got in,” Sarputeen noted proudly.
Mileko looked down modestly. He had paid for his boldness, and hindsight granted his actions few accolades.
“Unless you plan to walk through the front gate, entry will be difficult,” Mileko said.
“Well, I shan’t rule that out,” Sarputeen said.
Mileko continued, “Approaching the castle by stealth during the day would be impossible. The land is open. A winding lane is the only path up to the castle. It’s made narrow by boulders on each side. In effect, it’s a stone trench. It terminates at a ravine. Access is gained by a drawbridge. The castle sits atop the hill. Steep slopes lead up to the sheer walls. I judged that I could scale them, but getting close and doing it without being seen would be challenging. Also, Tekax has guns. I saw them shooting at targets throughout the landscape from their high position.”
Sarputeen nodded solemnly at each detail, and a vivid picture of the place took shape in his mind.
“Saw you any sign of a secret entrance somewhere on the hill?” he wondered.
“I saw no evidence for one,” Mileko said.
Thal had digested the same information while traveling with Mileko, and he said, “A better strategy would be to lure Tekax out.”
“He’ll not risk meeting me on the open land,” Sarputeen said knowingly, and he doubted if anything would dislodge Tekax. Perhaps if Gretchen still lived, he might long to see her, but that was impossible. “I must go in there and destroy him,” he said.
“Father,” Thal said. “I share in your anger at his aggression, but perhaps we should not seek conflict. Protecting our position might be a better use of our resources.”
“It might seem that way, but he has made his intentions clear. His agents will pursue us here. It’s only a matter of time before his agents inform the Church of our location and rile them to action. Thurzo can protect us from local persecution, but not much more. I would also point out that Tekax will not expect me to bring the battle to him. He knows that I am a creature of wood and field. I will do the unexpected by pursuing him in his lair.”
Thal frowned but restrained his criticism. He
preferred to choose ground that gave him the advantage in the attack, but his fierce power could still be effective within a constructed landscape. He had delivered his punishment within the buildings of his mother’s killers in Prague, but he had been lucky to escape.
Mileko said, “I believe that darkness could cover our ascent of the hill. We could then scale the walls, but a distraction would be essential so that we’re not noticed during the climb.”
“We’ll likely attack when the moon is full so that the pack can support us. The moonlight might reveal us,” Sarputeen said.
“But the pack could provide a great distraction,” Thal said.
“How do we deal with the fext?” Mileko wondered.
“He must be dismembered. If the parts cannot be connected, then how could he heal?” Thal said. “The parts should be burned. Do you agree, Father?”
Sarputeen said, “Those actions should dispel the magic that protects him, but the key to his undoing might be on his body. I speculate that some enchanted thing must be embedded in his flesh. There might be some hidden charm kept on his person. Its removal could make him vulnerable. I make this guess because I cannot fathom that it could be otherwise. I need my fur to shift, so you see my reasoning, but we cannot act by guesses alone. I must pose our questions to higher powers and hope for guidance from the spirit realm.”
“How will you do this?” Thal asked.
Sarputeen opened a drawer and removed a leather bag. Simple stone beads strung on strips of leather adorned the bottom of the bag. Objects inside the pouch clicked quietly against each other. “I will cast the rune bones,” he said.
Mileko perked up with interest. He had never witnessed his master perform this magic. He had heard old stories about such things, but such divining was an art from antiquity.
Thal knew nothing of such things, and he leaned over the desk as his father poured out the nine pale discs. Lines carved into the yellowish bone-like material divided the circular faces into three sections. Each section held a symbol.
“May I?” Thal asked reaching for one. His father nodded, and he picked one up. One crude design looked like a vulture or maybe a hawk. The simple skull next to it was less ambiguous, but he did not know what the third symbol could be.
He flipped the disc over and studied the symbols on that side. Within the etched lines he thought he saw a rain or tear drop, wavy lines, and a flower. Baffled by the symbols, he considered the material. Age had worn it smooth, but it looked to have tight rings like a tree.
“Is this bone?” Thal asked.
“It is cut from the tusks of a great beast from a past age,” Sarputeen said.
Thal looked up, astounded by the possibility. “This is far more than some boar’s tusk,” he said.
“I wouldn’t presume that this came from a boar, but these are very old. The mentor who taught me in the casting of rune bones told me that he took them from a shaman’s tomb hidden under a hill. They are old beyond our ability to reckon it,” Sarputeen explained.
Thal passed the disc to Mileko, who accepted it reverently, and picked up another one. “How does this work, Father?”
“Essentially, you pose your question and then select three rune bones from the bag without looking at them and cast them and then interpret the combinations of symbols. That will be the answer from the spirit realm,” Sarputeen explained.
“How do you know what the symbols mean?”
“I can explain what each rune signifies, but understanding their messages is an art that takes much time to teach, and you will only learn it if your heart is open to knowing.”
“And you believe in these runes?” Thal asked.
“I did not say believe. I said know,” his father corrected. “If you listen to the spirit realm, knowledge can be received, and then you know. Others might believe what you know.”
“I think I understand,” Thal said although skepticism crouched in the corners of his intellect.
Sarputeen held open the bag so that the others could put the discs back in. “These must be cast upon the Earth,” he said.
“I’ll gather the others,” Thal said, and his father agreed.
“We’ll catch up to you,” Sarputeen said and indicated that Mileko should stay.
After Thal departed, Mileko regarded his master patiently.
Sarputeen cleared his throat. “I’m very impressed with you, Mileko. I’m sure that Tekax was much impressed with you too,” he said. “In truth, I’m so impressed that I can call you student no more. I’ve advanced your talents as far as I’m able. Now I shall rely on you as a colleague.”
Overcome with shock and gratitude, Mileko said, “Master…”
“No, call me Lord Sarputeen now,” the older man insisted. “I graduate you to Master Magician although I consider you much more than that.”
These words of esteem gladdened Mileko, but he understood that Sarputeen wished to focus on training his son. Grudgingly, he supposed that he had already had more years with Sarputeen than his son.
“I’m sure that I’ll continue to learn from your great example, my Lord,” Mileko said.
******
Thal roused Altea and his pack to witness his father’s divination. They were bleary after only a short amount of sleep, but all appreciated the privilege of being included.
Altea walked beside Thal as they followed Sarputeen into the forest beyond the castle. They returned to the glen. A black pile of charred wood marked the recent bonfire. Sarputeen pulled out a hunk of charcoal and moved a few paces beyond the blackened area. He brushed away snow and then used a knife to scrape away dead vegetation and expose the soil. He worked meticulously.
“Shall I help you?” Thal asked but his father shook his head, concentrating too much to reply.
Everyone gathered into a circle around Sarputeen. Thal observed that his pack members where bright eyed with curiosity as they watched his father. Thal shared in their quiet excitement.
Once Sarputeen was satisfied with the preparation of the ground, he sat down and used the charcoal to rub a black ring in the dirt around his position. Thal sensed the change in energy around his father as soon as the circle formed. Mileko felt it too.
Sarputeen set the leather bag in front of him and began chanting softly. The words sounded vaguely similar to the elder words that he spoke when he transformed himself, but they were not the same. The rhythmic sounds had an entrancing quality. Sarputeen’s voice gradually changed too and became strange and raspy. He patted the bag as he chanted and then poured out the rune bones.
His chanting shifted to a higher tempo, and he picked up the knife. In a quick motion, he cut his temple. The slice produced a bright flow of blood. Altea flinched a little, and Thal set a hand on her knee to restrain her from intervening.
Sarputeen dropped the knife and wiped his fingers across the bleeding wound. He began to rub his blood into the rune bones. The red fluid of his life darkened the faintly etched symbols. He worked quickly to smear blood across every disc on both sides. Blood dripped from his wound onto the ground where he worked.
He put the rune bones back into the bag and shook them up. His chanting abruptly stopped. Blood seeped down the side of his face and neck.
“How can I defeat Tekax?” Sarputeen said. His tone was demanding as if trying to penetrate the attention of someone in a stupor. Thal supposed that the spirit realm had trouble paying attention.
Sarputeen reached into the bag. His fingers fished for three discs, and he gathered them into his palm. He brought them out and cast them hard upon the ground. They bounced and scattered. One disc rolled on its edge, circled briefly, and then tipped over.
Everyone watched with intense interest as Sarputeen leaned over the result. He took his knife and traced lines between each disc to connect them. Then he started with the disc on the right and considered its symbol. He followed the line counter clockwise to see which symbol came next in his interpretation. After one circuit, he carefully turned each disc counte
r clockwise by a third and then read the new order of symbols. As he did this for the third and final circuit, he muttered to himself.
At length, he sat back on his feet and looked at his son. Nearly breathless, Thal waited to hear the divination.
“You will discover the answer of how to make war on Tekax,” Sarputeen announced.
“That’s not an answer,” Thal complained.
“The answer will come to you,” Sarputeen said with grave certainty.
“The spirits have not spoken!” Thal scoffed and started to rise.
“There’s more,” Sarputeen said insistently, and Thal could not help but pause.
“Someone is coming who will reveal your course,” Sarputeen explained.
“Who?”
“The person shall be known to you,” his father said.
Irritated by the vague responses, Thal demanded again, “Tell me who.”
“I don’t know who you know,” Sarputeen said defensively.
Thal huffed with disappointment and got the rest of the way to his feet. He signaled to his pack to follow him. He felt somewhat embarrassed to have asked them to watch this activity, but Altea stayed at the edge of Sarputeen’s circle.
She watched him touch one of the discs thoughtfully. The bloodied symbols looked like a skull, a plant, and a seed.
“Is there something more?” she asked quietly.
Sarputeen started putting the rune bones back into his bag. “No,” he said while looking down.
She glanced to Mileko. He silently confirmed her suspicion that the sorcerer was not telling the truth.
“Thal is right. Your response was quite underwhelming. It means nothing,” she complained.
This time his dark eyes snapped up to challenge her, and she felt grabbed by his potent energy.
“I am much reassured by this casting of bones. Defeating Tekax is possible, and the way shall be revealed to us through Thal,” he said.
“Can you ask more questions?” she said.
“No,” he said while closing the bag.
She guessed that the casting had not gone as Sarputeen had hoped. Perhaps this divination magic was only wishful thinking or imprecise at best.