Werewolf Castle

by Tracy Falbe

  Chapter 40. His Visions Bled

  The people of Gyongyos avoided Janfelter’s eyes, but he knew that they were staring at his facial burns. Their bowed heads did not deceive him, and he was glad that they feared the spears and fire stitched on his cloak. Tekax’s tower lurked on the horizon, like a vulture on a long bare tree limb, and the arrival of a dozen heavily armed riders warned them that the dark one expected something.

  Janfelter swung down from the saddle in front of the village headman’s home. The charred edges of the placenta stapled to his side tugged at his flesh painfully when he moved. The damage was healing, slowly, but each nagging twinge of discomfort increased his anger toward the werewolves.

  Janfelter yanked the wreath off of the door, and raised a fist to pound authoritatively. Before he made contact, the door swung open. The village elder himself stood in the doorway. His servants hovered behind him like rats pondering the decision to jump ship.

  Long white hair framed the man’s face. His white beard still retained a few streaks of black. He squinted at Janfelter. The evidence of terrible burns alarmed him but his old eyes still recognized the champion of Tekax.

  “Toth,” Janfelter said without applying any honorific. “Your village is beset by werewolves, and I expect your full support.”

  The servants stiffened with shock behind their master.

  The old man needed a moment to process the astonishing statement, and Janfelter gave it to him. He looked forward to repaying Sarputeen with the same trick that he had used against him in Pressburg.

  “Werewolves?” Toth finally said.

  “Yes. They are coming on the west road,” Janfelter said. “I need all stout men and lads to accompany me immediately.”

  The headman looked like he had many questions, but Janfelter had no desire to let an old man’s confusion slow him down.

  “Give the order,” he said plainly to the elder and then turned to address the men in the street, who had gathered at to observe.

  “Fetch your arms!” Janfelter called. “Werewolves are upon you. We must defend the village now. Follow me.”

  He mounted his horse and drew his sword to emphasize the urgency of the situation. He had a fine new blade from his master’s armory, and the chilly breeze whistled against its sharp edge. He liked the sword but placed his hopes in the musket strapped across his back.

  People were running around and spreading the alarm. Toth emerged from his home with a heavy wool cloak that went nearly to his ankles. He gesticulated at his underlings with his cane and exhorted them to do as Janfelter bid them.

  As the men of the village mustered in the church square, Toth limped toward where Janfelter waited impatiently with his armed men. A dozen men-at-arms glowered restlessly from their saddles. They disliked how their easy duty manning the tower had suddenly thrust them into the field. They harbored concerns about this mysterious enemy.

  Janfelter understood better why his lord had sent him forth. After what had happened in Pressburg, Sarputeen must not be left to work his tricks upon the local villagers.

  Toth peered up at Janfelter. He remembered the warrior as a handsome man, and the fresh scars disturbed him. They had no natural look about them, and he worried about what would happen to his people. But he must not deny the demands of this one. He was the servant of Tekax, and Toth understood that a true sorcerer like those from stories of old now occupied the tower. Such a one a simple man could not contend with. Toth could only obey and hope for obscurity.

  “The people of Gyongyos are with you, Janfelter. We do not hesitate to raise arms when the Lord of the Tower asks,” Toth said.

  “You have acted most wisely,” Janfelter reassured him. “Now we must go.”

  “Our fighters need to pray first,” Toth insisted, and the assembled men rapidly agreed. Thoughts of the eternal soul suddenly occupied their thoughts more than usual. The threat of werewolves colored the dull hills with bloody strokes in their minds now.

  They kneeled outside the modest chapel that hemmed the square on the south side. No clergy occupied it, but the people still kept the building in good condition. They believed that their Church would outlive the Ottoman conquest.

  Janfelter did not interfere as the people mumbled their prayers quietly. Although they lacked a priest to guide them, they remembered their God. Janfelter had never felt any need to seek strength from Heaven. He had traveled extensively to study the arts of war in his master’s service. Religion changed with the landscape, and Janfelter bore no loyalty to any place or belief except for Tekax, whose power was not the subject of myth or scripture.

  Once the villagers had fortified their spirits with divine armor, they marched out the west gate behind the riders.

  ******

  “Don’t expect this village to be friendly,” Mileko said to Thal.

  “Pity. I like a good friendly village,” Thal said and shared a glance with Altea.

  “I remember,” Mileko mumbled.

  “We’ll just pass through,” Thal said with a more serious tone. He realized that his pleasant mood represented his last taste of safety as he approached their place of battle. The fortified tower that Mileko had described was the antithesis of what Nature had honed his instincts for. He was the creature that looked for opportunity on the open land. But this old rival of his father would have to be dug out like a stubborn badger.

  “I’ll see if Valentino thinks the horses are ready to proceed,” Thal said.

  He walked with Altea toward the Condottiere, who had called a break so that the horses could rest. They had one more hill to get over before they expected to reach Gyongyos, and the canons presented a burdensome load.

  Valentino walked out to meet them so that they would not come too close to the horses. The animals taken from the defeated akinci remained skittish in the presence of the werewolves.

  “Not much longer. We’ll get over the ridge before dark,” Valentino informed him, knowing what the question would be.

  “Very good,” Thal said. “How are your new recruits getting on?”

  Valentino rolled his eyes. “Raul and Mency are good with the horses. I only hope they don’t run off with them in the night,” he said of the two bandit lads who had joined their party that morning.

  “They’ve learned to respect me already,” Thal said knowingly. Only the rare man or woman could hide their hearts from him, and he was not concerned about any treachery from them except some petty thieving because it was their way.

  “They’ve great faith in your victory,” Valentino reported. “I always knew that you would make a great mercenary captain.”

  “How are they getting on with the two from the village?” Thal asked.

  “Oh, they’re working on their pecking order, but I don’t care as long as they do what I say when I say,” Valentino said.

  “I’m sure adventure will make them comrades of Gregor and Alonso soon enough,” Altea predicted.

  “I expect so,” Valentino said.

  Altea approached the young men who lounged by the canons. She engaged them in pleasant conversation to distract them from their cliquish tendencies if only for a few moments.

  Thal admired how she could ensnare the young men. Her new wolfish powers had enhanced her natural talent. He knew that those lads would view her as their queen within moments for he had been no different.

  “I don’t expect this village to react kindly to us showing up at dusk with two canons and armed men,” Valentino said.

  “Mileko quite agrees,” Thal said. “But he said a lane goes around the village wall so we need not enter,” Thal said.

  “That’s the plan? We just saunter by?” Valentino said.

  “The canons need the road. It’s the only way,” Thal said.

  Valentino blew on his hands before pulling on his gloves. Trying to be optimistic, he said, “Maybe we’ll pick up a few more recruits from this village. Maybe we’ll go on to retake Hungary.”

  Thal chuckled. “I feel no u
rge to do that.”

  “Good,” Valentino said.

  “I appreciate all that you’re doing for me,” Thal said.

  “Gladly is my help given. My trials have taught me who my one true friend was,” Valentino said.

  “As did mine,” Thal said, remembering how Valentino had helped him and Altea in Prague. “I’ll have you reunited with Carmelita soon. My father and I shall settle our score with Tekax with this coming moon.”

  “What do we do until then?” Valentino asked for the moon was a week away from full and the tower only a day’s travel even with canons.

  “Plot our approach. Wear on Tekax’s mind. A hunt for big game sometimes lasts for days,” Thal said.

  “Will not this sorcerer have some magic to send against us?” Valentino worried. Plotting battle was his trade, but he had been schooled in the ways of normal men.

  “I suppose so,” Thal said a bit too breezily for Valentino’s comfort.

  “I’ll get us moving again,” Valentino said and went to hustle his tiny brigade to action.

  Altea rejoined Thal as he headed up the road. During the break, his pack had been practicing with the muskets taken from the Ottoman fort without discharging powder. Thal noted the irony of seeing his werewolves work with guns. Lenki’s smaller hands fit the musket poorly, but Mileko was helping her develop a technique for holding it.

  Leaning close, Altea whispered, “I daresay Lenki has a beau.”

  “Which pleases you I presume,” Thal said, aware of her lingering jealousy.

  “She’d still jump over a cliff for you,” Altea groused.

  “They all would,” Thal said. He had won their hearts with kind treatment but knew that his wolf magic bound them with strong chains. Harvath lying in his remote grave reminded him of what the stakes were for all of them.

  “Where’s Father gone?” Thal wondered.

  The elder sorcerer had been sitting on a low boulder during the break, ensconced in his private thoughts as usual, but now he was no where to be seen. Pistol sniffed around Sarputeen’s last location and then trotted up the road toward the top of the hill.

  “He must be scouting ahead,” Altea said, and they hastened to find him.

  When they crested the hill, the road was empty. They saw the winding track descending a scrubby slope, mostly denuded of growth from villagers gathering wood and timber for too many years. Gyongyos was visible. A wood stockade encircled most of its buildings.

  “Get off the road,” Sarputeen hissed from the bushes.

  Thal was surprised that he had not detected his father’s presence. Their spirits had developed a natural link, but the older man could recede from perception with uncanny skill.

  “Listen,” Sarputeen said as soon as Thal and Altea crouched alongside him. In the distance, voices and barking dogs indicated a large crowd hidden somewhere in the folds of the land.

  “The locals intend to confront us,” Sarputeen said.

  “Should we try to speak to them?” Altea asked, hoping that Sarputeen could work his charms.

  His frown deepened the lines on his face as he considered the idea. “We’re in the lands of Tekax now. I suspect he has roused this force against us.”

  “Then our little war shall begin in earnest,” Thal concluded.

  “Are we going to kill these villagers?” Altea worried.

  “If they’ve much sense, they’ll frighten easily,” Thal said without making promises.

  Altea cringed at the harshness of their situation. She hated that unwitting villagers had been dragged into their battle. Sarputeen set a hand on her arm.

  “Daughter, if we don’t do this, the day will come when a mob approaches Vlkbohveza,” he said soothingly. Altea looked down. She knew too well how simple folk could lash out in hate or condone it in their communities. She looked to her wolf side for the strength to face this violence that seemed so much more difficult than attacking a fort occupied by soldiers.

  Thal said, “We have to hold this high ground. Altea, tell Mileko to help Valentino get the canons up here. Have his horse pull as well. I’ll hold them off with the pack.”

  She nodded and ran to sound the alarm.

  “Father, find us some good defensive positions while I fetch the others,” Thal said.

  His pack noted his deadly serious mood as soon as he approached them. Eagerness to be of service buoyed Ansel’s movements. Mitri came forward with his usual unflappable determination, and Lenki’s breath quickened as she anticipated firing her gun in battle. Even Johan felt a courage he had never quite known before stir in his heart. He supposed that the earnestness of those around him had engulfed his feelings somehow.

  “Get your powder ready,” Thal said. “We’ve got to make this road ours.”

  He drew both pistols and led them to the hilltop. Their foes were louder now. Sarputeen helped everyone find the niches in the ground and bushes where they could hide. Thal secreted himself next to his father. He watched the first ranks of their enemy come into sight. Their pitchforks and spears swayed over their heads. They were regular folk, and many of them were moving alongside the winding lane as well, beating the bushes as if out hunting. Their dogs yelped with excitement.

  “A few volleys of those muskets ought to turn this crowd around,” Thal predicted as his eyes roved the landscape, looking for the best targets.

  “I expect so,” his father agreed, but warned, “These fools might be a distraction.”

  “Look,” Thal said. Still farther down the slope, he spotted men on horses. They had the look of proper men-at-arms.

  “Mileko said that Tekax had few fighters, but it looks like he’s sent them out against us,” Thal speculated.

  “Then we must deprive him of as many of his servants as possible,” Sarputeen said, and a hungry light came into his eyes, which Thal recognized as his urge to shift.

  “Do you propose we go down there together in wolf form?” Thal asked. He would rather get as much of the work done with his guns as he could.

  Sarputeen glanced at the sky. This short winter day was almost spent. “We wait for night,” he said.

  Thal approved. The guns were of less use in the dark when beasts were at their fullest power.

  Keeping his head down, he peered down the hill and tried to judge if the riders were in range yet. They were keeping the numerous villagers ahead of them. Thal conveyed to his pack that they should aim for the riders instead of the locals on foot.

  “Do you think they’ve seen us yet?” Altea wondered. Her feral energy darkened the blue of her eyes. Her breath steaming in the air revealed the wild heat within her body.

  “No,” Thal said. The random yelling of the men at the fore indicated that they were still looking for targets.

  “I think I got one in range,” Ansel whispered excitedly.

  Although Thal doubted that even an expert could fire with accuracy at such a distance, he appreciated Ansel’s willingness to try.

  “Be patient. Let’s not give away our position too soon,” Thal advised.

  Ansel nodded but kept his eyes on his distant target. His blood thudded in his ears with an excitement that rivaled his transformation to a wolf. Did all men about to meet in battle feel this excruciating readiness to act weighed with mortal fear? He supposed so.

  Lenki buzzed with a similar energy, but fear dulled her blood lust less than the others.

  Johan braced for the grim confrontation. He accepted fully now his new role in life. The gritty dangers of a magical outlaw might have more to teach him than the lofty crimes of religious philosophy that he had already committed.

  He looked sideways at Mitri. They exchanged a look of shared determination. Mitri preferred the blunt reality of direct combat more than the aloof superiority of the musket.

  “These things deafen me when they go off,” Mitri grumbled. Johan envied his concern for sore ears instead of the possibility of killing someone.

  “I don’t know if I’m actually going to hit anyone,�
� Johan said.

  “A few shots ought to make those folk run back to their mamas,” Mitri predicted.

  “I suppose they’d be wise to do so,” Johan said.

  Everyone could make out the faces of the angry villagers coming up the road. Territorial courage lit their bold expressions until their dogs fell silent and dropped back. Although concerned by the dogs’ behavior, the people pressed onward. Thal readied his pack for battle.

  “Let them get closer,” he insisted. “Try to hit those riders. They’re Tekax’s men. Hold them back until the canons get up here.”

  They crouched in silence after his encouraging words. The men were almost upon them. They brandished their daily tools such as sickles, hammers, and butcher knives. The riders continued to advance behind the rowdy mass. The breeze shifted a bit and brought the melange of human odors to Thal’s nostrils. He habitually sorted the blended scents and stiffened when a corrupted smell that he recognized hit him.

  “Janfelter is out there,” he said.

  His father scowled with great unhappiness. He drew in the air and caught a whiff. “I’ll wager that he is worse for wear after the fire,” he said hopefully.

  “I can’t see him,” Thal said as he scrutinized the scene below. “He must be hiding.”

  “We’ll find him tonight,” Sarputeen predicted.

  The shouts of the villagers had become alarmingly loud. Thal finally took the first shot. Men jumped at the bang of his pistol except for one who fell back with a cry. No one had a chance to react before four muskets blazed away from cover farther uphill.

  The recoil sent Lenki back on her butt. Ansel looked at her. With gunpowder smoke swirling around his head, he gave her a hand up.

  “Did you see if I hit anyone?” she asked, already beginning to reload.

  “I don’t know,” Ansel said. His hands were shaking as he tried to pour powder, and he admonished himself to keep the excitement from getting the better of him.

  Thal fired off a second shot while Altea hastened to reload his other pistol. Sarputeen observed silently.

  The villagers had scattered behind the cover of trees or boulders, but the men-at-arms yelled them to keep advancing. They rode closer to urge their impromptu infantry forward, and the second volley of musket fire tore into them. Two dropped from their saddles. A shrill whoop issued from the hilltop.