by Tracy Falbe
He blinked his eyes. They felt weird without eyelashes. He looked down at his hands. Fresh skin crept stubbornly over his ghastly wounds. The agony eased bit by bit. He dropped to the ground and pulled off his charred boots. They were still burning hot in his hands and he flung them aside. He yanked away the ashy remnants of his clothing and stalked naked among the dead. He stripped them of clothing and found a pair of boots that fit. One man was still alive although grievously wounded, and Janfelter snapped his neck.
He roamed the disheveled scene as the fire crackled heatedly in the background. He sought his armor and weapons, but no amount of terror had made people drop those valuable items.
He stalked the now empty streets until he reached the banker’s house. He did not bother confronting the man. He took the best horse he could find from the stable. At the town gate, Janfelter met no resistance although he could hear the men cowering in their gate house. The fext unbarred the gate himself and galloped out of Pressburg on the moonlit road.
Chapter 36. Look Into the Pool
Thal felt Altea clench when her predawn transformation started. He kept his arms around her and spoke reassuringly as the werewolf magic withdrew.
She relaxed against him once her womanly body had returned, and he spread her cloak over her nakedness.
Altea ran a hand over her face, glad to feel the familiar contours of her nose and chin. Her human mind gradually sorted through the images of her nocturnal experiences until she reconciled her wolf and woman selves. Her left arm stung and she touched the tender cut. The wound had clotted. She remembered Thal dabbing at it gently in the night after they reached the boat, but her transformation had pulled open its edges, and the blood was seeping again. She knew that her next two transformations while the moon remained round would tear at the wound and stall healing.
Thal’s sympathetic eyes welcomed her when she looked up from inspecting her wound.
She looked for Sarputeen. He stood at the prow of the boat, motionless as a wooden figurehead. He stared at the mist curling over the water. He had put his brown robes back on, and his wolf fur made his shoulders look especially broad.
Relieved to see him unhurt, she started to dress. The others were getting their clothes back on as well. Their natural disorientation after shifting gave way to quiet reflection about what had occurred in the night. Only the lapping of water against the hull intruded upon the silence.
Mileko brought out a fresh bandage for Lenki’s shoulder that had started bleeding again. Once he completed the bandage, she put aside her cloak and reached for her clothes. Her nipples were sharp in the cold. Mileko looked away, trying to grant her some gentlemanly privacy, but his glance snuck toward her anyway.
Thal cleared his throat and stood to address everyone. “You fought well last night,” he praised. “I felt the natural coordination of our efforts. This gives me confidence that we will be formidable when we act against our true foes.”
“I could sense our connection, Lord,” Johan remarked.
“Our unity makes us strong,” Thal said. “I, for one, feel privileged to guide you.”
Lenki leaned out of the boat and threw up. Mileko put a tender hand on her back. She spat and wiped her mouth and then sank back into the boat.
“I tasted of the fext blood,” she explained.
“How much?” Mileko asked urgently.
Thal rushed to her side, visibly concerned.
“Not much. I tried not to bite him,” she said and peeked apologetically at her master, who had warned of the poison.
She looked more pale than usual, and Thal wrapped his wolf fur around her shoulders. “Stay warm,” he said softly, and she snuggled into the heavy pelt that smelled intimately of her maker.
“My stomach is settling,” she said, hoping to offer reassurance.
Thal recalled how intense his sickness had been after exposure to large amounts of fext blood, and he deemed that she did not appear to be in a dangerous state.
“Look after her,” he said to Mileko. Thal was glad to shift her care to his colleague. He realized that he had been quick to offer her his fur, and he could feel Altea’s jealousy without looking at her.
Valentino jerked his head up. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stay at this rudder,” he announced blearily.
His haggard and bearded face made clear the toll that his imprisonment and escape had taken. Although he had gladly given the last of his stamina to guide the boat away from Pressburg, he was spent.
“I’ll take it, my friend,” Thal said and traded places with the Condottiere. The force of the water against the handle in his hands triggered a rare memory from his previous life. An experience from his adolescent days scampered through his thoughts. He had handled a river boat in Prague, and he was glad to find the task somewhat familiar.
The others moved their feet so that Valentino could lay down. Exhaustion welcomed him into slack-jawed slumber immediately.
Mitri stretched his thick arms overhead, and his back cracked. “Lord, would you have me take up an oar?” he asked.
Thal grinned appreciatively at Mitri’s willingness to help. The river’s current had been their sole source of locomotion when they floated quietly away from Pressburg.
Thal looked to Ansel because they would need a man to oar each side, and the young man took up an oar although he visibly lacked enthusiasm for the labor.
Mitri slapped him on the back. “This is our reward for not getting hurt,” he said cheerfully.
Thal said, “We’ll put ashore when I see a good spot.”
He wanted them to rest, especially since they would transform again in the night. The river was empty, probably because of the holiday, and he expected that they could find a secluded spot to camp in peace for the rest of the day. Already the villages near Pressburg had given way to unpopulated lands. Snowy hills and dormant woodlands offered a pleasing quietude after the merriment and mayhem of the royal town. Thal easily noticed the lines of animal tracks in the snow leading to the riverbanks. He planned to hunt tonight. They needed food.
Before long, he steered them into a secluded space along the riverbank masked by willows. Even without their whispery leaves, the veils of thin branches obscured their presence. Mileko led his horse out of the boat first. Although the animal tolerated the werewolves, it gladly departed the boat.
As Mileko gathered wood, Thal checked on Lenki. She appeared to be recovering except for a lingering stomach ache.
“I bit him before I realized what I was doing,” she said.
“It’s our nature to bite,” he consoled.
“Do you really think the fire destroyed that vile creature?” she asked.
“If Luck is with us,” he said, wishing that he had confirmed the fext’s destruction, but the mob had posed too great a threat to everyone, and he did not regret his departure from Pressburg. “Rest now. Your bravery will be needed on the path ahead,” he said, and the value he placed upon her stirred an esteem for herself that she had never known.
He joined the others at the fire and sat next to Altea. They heated some broth made from the last of their dried meat. It did nearly nothing to curb their rumbling hunger, but the warmth was welcome.
“I can take the first watch,” Valentino volunteered. He did not look much refreshed from his short nap, but Thal accepted the offer.
Everyone except Thal settled into their slumber. Mitri snored softly. Mileko spread a protective arm over Lenki. Johan and Ansel shared a blanket for mutual warmth, and Altea fell asleep quickly even without her husband holding her close. Sarputeen found his own spot away from the others. He reposed with saintly serenity with a hand against his shining crucifix. Thal wondered if his father’s faith in his disguise aided the belief of others.
Valentino intruded on his thoughts. “Don’t you ever get tired?” he asked.
“Eventually,” Thal said.
“Thank you for freeing me. You’ve more than repaid any favor I might have asked of you,” V
alentino said.
“Carmelita needs you,” Thal said.
Valentino snorted with contempt for himself. “She would have done better to forget me and live with her brother,” he said.
“But she didn’t, and I need you too,” Thal said.
“Will you make me a werewolf?” Valentino asked apprehensively.
“Would you want that?”
“No,” Valentino whispered.
“I want your skills as they are. I need a Condottiere,” Thal said.
Valentino chuckled. “I’m not that anymore,” he lamented.
“Of course you are. You have knowledge of war, and I have a castle to breach,” Thal said.
The news startled Valentino, who quickly tried to squash his friend’s assumptions. “My connections are lost. I’ve no men to call upon. My weapons stashes were certainly seized,” he said.
“You’re a leader and you know the arts of war,” Thal corrected confidently, undeterred by the details of Valentino’s ruin.
“You’ve grown ambitious since last we met,” Valentino grumbled, resigning himself to whatever plan Thal wanted to pursue.
“I’m threatened. A rival of my father sent assassins to kill me, including that fext. Me and mine will know no peace until we rid the world of a sorcerer known as Tekax,” Thal explained.
Valentino cringed upon hearing the name. “I’ve heard rumors of him. He’s an ally of the Ottomans. Your father knows him?”
“From long ago. My mother knew him too,” Thal revealed.
“Ah,” Valentino said with greater understanding.
“So tell me what you know of taking a castle,” Thal prompted.
“Well...gunpowder is the key. One approach has miners dig a tunnel under the wall. Then you pack it with powder and BOOM!” Valentino clapped his hands together. “The wall opens up.”
“The castle is atop a rocky hill,” Thal said.
“Digging would be difficult then, and we certainly don’t have the manpower or wolf power to tunnel,” Valentino said. “Which leaves cannons. Blowing the gate open works well.”
“What of a draw bridge?” Thal asked.
“There’s a draw bridge,” Valentino said and rolled his eyes, wondering just how many obstacles he needed to overcome.
“Tell me everything first,” he suggested.
“According to Mileko, there is a narrow protected lane going up to the bridge and gate. And guns mounted on the walls,” Thal explained.
“Guns, very nice,” Valentino muttered sarcastically.
“An assault on the gate would primarily be a distraction. Mileko believed we might scale the walls if given some time to do it. Last we knew, the castle was not heavily manned,” Thal said.
“That’s something, but I don’t know how we could get a cannon,” Valentino said.
“If we take the river to Buda could we buy one?” Thal proposed.
“I’m obviously no Ottoman. Those who used to sell me weapons were west of here not east. Buying weapons is not the same as buying a pair of boots,” Valentino cautioned.
“It’s much more expensive,” Thal joked.
The Condottiere grinned. “Of course, but you need to know who to talk to, and they need to know you. I’m sorry my friend. I’d just be a stranger in Buda, and I doubt a Christian shopping for a canon on the Ottoman’s border will result in anything except our execution,” Valentino said. Despite his better judgment, he gestured toward Sarputeen and added, “Unless your father is going to impersonate Suleiman.”
“He has not said anything about that,” Thal said.
“If this Tekax is his old enemy, then what has he said about attacking him?” Valentino wondered.
“He said that I would figure a way,” Thal said.
“At least he has confidence in you,” Valentino observed.
“I know where to get a canon,” Mileko announced quietly.
The two men looked to him as he gently left Lenki’s side and joined them. “I’ve been listening since you said my name,” Mileko said to explain his eavesdropping.
“And who do you know that will sell a canon?” Valentino inquired.
“Sell?” Mileko shook his head. “Steal. There’s light cannon at a border fort at the edge of the Highlands. It’s not far from Tekax. With the winter, the ground will be hard, and we’ll be able to haul it by road, unless the snow is bad,” he said.
Valentino held his tongue instead of sharing a snide remark about wars not being fought in the winter. Why should he concern himself with snow when he now had a border fort to sack.
He rubbed his temples and said, “I need to think about all of this.”
“Of course,” Thal said.
******
Thal took some rest before dusk came. His smile greeted Altea when she woke up.
“Did I sleep all day?” she mumbled and rubbed her eyes. She noticed the pink horizon and felt her blood stir with the desire to shift.
“Tonight we’ll hunt the wild woods,” Thal said.
Once darkness came, he and his father chanted their spell of changing and awaited the transformation of the others. As the wolf magic overtook the pack, they trotted away from the little ring of firelight where Mileko and Valentino observed in silence. The only noise came from the nervous whicker of the horse as the beasts moved away silently.
That night, the passion of the hunt bound them, and they killed a deer and ate their fill.
Thal brought two loins back to Mileko and Valentino, who appreciated the quality provisions. Valentino tried not to consider the tooth marks along the edges of the meat as he put it to the fire.
The other werewolves returned wearily to the camp. They twisted and gasped through their transitions and got dressed. Thal and Sarputeen inspected their boat. Thin ice had formed around its hull, but they cracked it easily with the oars. Mileko loaded his horse, and the men ate a hasty breakfast before launching.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, Valentino took the rudder again while Thal and Ansel worked the oars. Altea watched Thal pull his oar. His strong body moved with tireless ease, and she remembered hunting at his side. Her role in the cycle of life and death felt more familiar to her after each transformation. In the moment of killing, she accepted that all things must come to their ends.
When they encountered traffic, a village soon came into sight. They avoided the docks and ignored the curious stares. A child waved with innocent excitement to see an outsider.
They traveled the rest of the day, passing farmsteads and little settlements until the wilds overtook the banks again. Unbroken forest marched down to the water. A few evergreens stood out among the dormant hardwoods.
The boat navigated a bend in the Danube, and a hilly vista opened up before them. Sarputeen perked up. He scrutinized the largest hill that dominated the landscape.
Finally, he pointed to it and said, “That’s the place.”
“What place?” Thal asked.
“Where we’ll begin our journey overland toward the Highlands,” he answered.
Thal contemplated the land. His heart wanted to embrace the peace of the unsettled area, but something that he could not define nagged at him.
“Let us stay on the river,” he suggested, feeling strangely nervous.
Sarputeen was not surprised that the place unsettled his son.
“I must show you this place. I must show all of you,” he revealed, and curiosity overturned Thal’s misgivings.
He selected a place to put ashore that was quite visible from up or down stream. He and Mileko tied the boat securely to several trees.
“I think Kramer’s men will be able to find it here,” Thal said.
“If someone does not steal it first,” Mileko said dispassionately.
“We shall leave a note,” Altea said.
“A note shan’t deter someone from claiming an abandoned boat,” Mileko said.
“It might inform an honest trader that it belongs to someone. Most traders working these waters will
probably know Kramer’s name,” she said.
“I suppose you’re expecting me to have a bit of paper and ink?” Mileko said and reached into his vest.
As Altea dipped a little stylus into Mileko’s tiny bottle, Thal leaned over her and said, “Don’t say anything that might get our trader friend in trouble.”
She nodded and composed simply in her elegant script: Consider it your duty to return this boat to its rightful owner, Arvin Kramer of Pressburg. She tacked it to an oarlock and went ashore satisfied with her effort.
She paused on the shore. Sarputeen and the others had started into the trees, but she suddenly felt ill at ease. Thal put a hand on her back. “You feel it too,” he said.
“What do you feel?”
“A presence...Do you remember Chironef?” he said.
“Yes!” she said. “Do you think we’ll find people who practice the old ways here?”
“I don’t think any people live here,” he said cryptically and started forward.
The land rose and fell in undulating folds that added to the difficulty of traversing tangled tree roots half hidden in layers of leaves and snow.
Thal normally had a talent for picking out a path where none seemed possible, but this place vexed him. His father was making slow progress as well. He probed with his staff ahead of each step.
They continued their miserable hike for the rest of the day. As they overcame one hill, another equally cumbersome slope greeted them. The only benefit of their exertions was that it kept their bodies warm.
The cawing of a dozen ravens interrupted the frosty silence at dusk. The black birds circled overhead and roosted in the tree canopy above them.
“We shall camp here,” Sarputeen decided.
Valentino and Mileko went to work gathering firewood before it got too dark, and the others wearily prepared for the change that would overtake their flesh.
A large fire was crackling. The forest regarded the intrusive flame indignantly as if such a thing had not troubled the borders of this woodland for a long time. The moonlight streamed down upon the land with exceptional brightness, and the werewolves took shape just outside the firelight. They circled the camp like confused predators. Mileko’s horse snorted and stamped.