Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  “Yes,” Thal agreed.

  When they could hear the riders approaching, Thal leaned out of the brambles. He could see the dark figures on the road. His nostrils twitched to judge the situation.

  “They have dogs,” he said.

  To affirm his statement, their baying began.

  “Dogs!” Andreli cried, aghast. He had not thought that Jan would break out the hunting dogs. Trying to spook the castle guards from a hidden position was pure folly now.

  Thal moved out of the thicket. Andreli grabbed for his sleeve but the young man pulled away.

  “What are you doing?” Andreli hissed.

  “I’m about to get some practice that won’t be a waste of powder,” Thal answered.

  The barking intensified and the hounds sprinted ahead of the horses. Thal’s keen eyes provided sharp detail in the silvery light. The big fangs of the lead dog gleamed with ivory malice. Its fat tongue flapped with spittle. Its claws tore into the road. The thundering hulks of other hounds were close behind.

  Thal raised his pistol and set aside his fear. This was not the first time he had joined in combat with a fierce animal, and this domesticated beast was not going to be the end of him.

  The hound leaped at him like a stone hurled by a catapult. Thal discharged his pistol. The powder flashed. The bang vibrated at the end of his arm like a miniature thunderstorm. The ball hit inside the dog’s open mouth and its head blew out the back in a bloody spray of brains and fur. Its body skidded to a stop at Thal’s feet.

  The next dog, crazy with the hunt, leaped at Thal. He bashed its head with a hard sweep of his smoking pistol. The clubbing force of his steely arm crunched its skull.

  When the third dog attacked, he ducked. The dog sailed over him and he rose from his squat and caught it across the stomach with his shoulder. Reaching up with his free hand, he seized its throat and hurled it against the charging pack.

  Flaring with savage intensity, Thal screamed at his attackers. The dogs ceased their eager barking and lowered their heads. Whimpering and confused, they retreated with the sharp tang of their alpha’s spilled blood in their noses.

  The riders arrived and the men were confused by the wave of hunting dogs slinking behind their horses. They saw Thal still standing in the road. Two dark heaps were spread upon the threshold of his defiance.

  Undeterred by the unexpected weirdness, Jan moved forward on a fine destrier, its chest lathered from the long run. His armor gleamed faintly beneath his bearded face, and his rich voice was filled with victory.

  “Having fun with my pistol?” he said.

  Thal itched to reload, but he supposed it was futile. Glancing among the men gathered behind Jan, he saw one rider raise a pistol at him. Thal resisted glancing toward Andreli. He had scared back the dogs so they would forget his hidden companion. He hoped that Andreli was taking his chance to slip away.

  “I’ll be needing my pistol back,” Jan said.

  Thal tossed it onto the road. He considered again what he was about to do. What would actually happen he was not sure. He was counting on the half remembered magic of what his father had done.

  “Give up that Devil’s hide to me and maybe I’ll let you run off after your worthless friends,” Jan offered.

  Thal pulled the fur from his shoulders and held it out like bait. “Why do you think it is of the Devil?” he asked.

  Jan chuckled darkly. “Don’t play a fool. You know what you are. God will tolerate your secret rites no more. The Jesuits told us to be on the watch for warlocks and Devil worshippers and their sick charms,” he said.

  “I worship no Devil,” Thal insisted proudly although an egg of doubt hatched in his heart. What had he been doing with his father? What else would people call it?

  “Throw down the fur or we’ll shoot you like a mad dog right here in the dirt,” Jan said, growing impatient. His man with the pistol came forward menacingly.

  “What if my Devil protects me from bullets?” Thal asked cockily. His body felt hot. Sweat ran down his back. The moonlight cast heavenly brightness upon his enemies.

  “Shoot the dog,” Jan ordered.

  “You’ll not kill a man for his only possession!” Andreli cried. He sprang out of the bushes and fired his gun.

  The horses screamed and bucked until their riders brought them under control. The dogs slunk back farther, wanting nothing to do with the situation. The man about to shoot Thal was spooked into pulling the trigger, and his ball shot off wildly over Thal’s head.

  But another man farther back in the group pulled a pistol and shot Andreli. The powder flash in the night was followed by a sharp scream. Andreli stumbled back clutching his shoulder. His pistol fell to the road.

  Thal gasped. Panic ambushed his stout resolve. He had gotten Andreli shot! The horror of that consequence maddened him. He hated his rotten judgment. He should not have let Andreli stay with him, but the temptation for help had been irresistible. He did not want to be alone. Now he must fight to help Andreli.

  “You weary me,” Jan huffed. He got off his horse and drew a sword. His men pressed closer on their horses. Thal retreated a few steps from Jan’s lifted blade.

  “There’s only the cleansing fire for you now,” Jan said.

  Thal raised his voice and began to recite the words written on his fur that he had memorized. Unlike his hushed tones of practice, he intoned each word with the full force of his voice and the mysterious meanings of the unknown words resonated with the unseen primeval forces of the world.

  He pulled the fur around his hips and kept reciting the spell. He did not have to think about it. The words were swelling out of his being as easily as he had once howled his songs with his pack.

  Jan’s draw dropped as he beheld the transformation. In the space of a few heartbeats, Thal’s body rejoined with his wolf spirit. His clothing ripped and fell away as his body swelled with muscles and its shape distorted into a beast man. Fur magically covered his powerful body. Once again he felt the chomping confidence of long powerful jaws instead of a soft small mouth. Heavy claws armed his hands and feet. And most pleasing of all was the return of his tail that stiffened with aggression.

  Thal leaped forward onto all fours. His padded paw hands met the road and his legs were filled with the familiar animal power that had propelled him on hunts for many years. He charged Jan who hacked sloppily with his sword. Thal dodged the blade, grabbed the man around the torso, and hurled him off the road against a tree. His head bashed the trunk and he slumped to the ground.

  Then Thal rushed into the riders, slashing horses and men with his claws and snarling savagely. The dogs fled first, racing down the road with better sense than their masters.

  Thal tore a man from the saddle. His screaming and thrashing invited Thal to clamp onto his throat, but he resisted. He was not hunting. He was fighting, and the purpose was to win and only kill if it came to it. He threw the man against a horse and bounded toward the next rider. He nipped at the animal’s legs and sent it galloping away.

  The shouting men on their circling and bucking horses could do little in the chaotic close quarters. Unnatural terror mauled their normal courage. Flashing eyes reflected the moonlight with greenish blue, and the beast wove between their mounts with untrackable speed.

  A horse kicked Thal, and the blunt force hit him hard and sent him flying against another horse. Despite the flaring pain, he chomped on that animal’s leg. Bleeding, the horse fled with its rider.

  Thal circled the remaining riders, relentlessly trying to spook their steeds. His slashing hands and snapping teeth soon overcame any remaining will to stand and fight. The men yielded to the irresistible panic of witnessing superstition flower into fact. The man on foot was helped onto a horse by a friend and they fled with the others. Thal chased them down the road, snarling and snapping just out of range of the kicking hooves. He did not want to get clipped by a hard hoof again. Despite the surging strength of his powerful body, he was realizing that he had taken a hu
rtful blow.

  When he halted, his tongue lolled out dripping in the cool night. The thunder of his retreating enemies satisfied him greatly. He raised his mouth and howled like he never had before. A huge sound trumpeted from his great throat with an intelligent rage that put the world on notice that he would defend his right to live.

  The sound filled the vale with shuddering energy. Peasants clutched their covers and stared into the darkness. Children whimpered in their little beds. Praying monks faltered in their entreaties to a higher power when the voice of the Earth beneath their knees called them to attention. The Gypsies laboring into the hills looked over their shoulders and feared to believe what they dreaded to suspect.

  Thal finished his song, and dropped down to his altered hands and feet. He panted heavily but enjoyed an immense relief to have connected with his true nature. The horse blood in his mouth spiced his elation.

  After catching his breath, he raised back up onto his legs. Although wolfish, he had discovered that he still seemed suited to walking upright. He rushed to Andreli who was moaning in the road. Thal nuzzled his shoulder. The fresh aroma of human blood worried him. Andreli gasped and quivered in terror. Thal wanted to comfort him. He licked the wound, and Andreli squeaked like a mouse.

  Thal decided he needed to get Andreli away. The castle guards might come back looking for their captain. Thal found their pistols on the ground. He tried to pick them up but his hands were not as good in this form. He fumbled a while before gathering them crudely into the bend of his elbow. He had to pick up his powder horn with his mouth. Then with his other arm, he hauled Andreli over a shoulder. The Gypsy groaned and then blathered in terror as he called upon any Saint he could think of to redeem him from the bestial nightmare.

  Thal felt his injury acutely under the heavy load. He loped up the road into the forest and found a place to put Andreli down. When he was set down, he tried to scramble away. Pebbles and leaves were flung aside by his scraping feet. Thal restrained him and propped him against a tree. He patted and licked his face, trying to calm him. Finally the insistent mystery of Thal’s animal eyes entranced Andreli. They stared at each other for a timeless moment, bound by a connection that the man could not fathom. A yipe startled Andreli so much he shrieked.

  Thal looked over and saw the little brown and white dog trotting up. They sniffed noses and the dog’s little tongue flicked across Thal’s lips. Thal nudged Andreli with his nose and imparted to the dog that he was to stay with the man. The dog climbed into Andreli’s lap and curled up companionably.

  “Thal?” Andreli whispered as his mind tumbled into a hole of impossible comprehension.

  Thal stood up. He wished he could communicate properly with the man. His wish suddenly revealed his ability and he let go of the transformation. His body contracted and convulsed and returned to its manly form. His fur lay at his feet.

  “Wait here,” Thal said. He grabbed his fur and ran down the road.

  ******

  Jan felt like he had been run over by a beer wagon. His head hurt all the way through to his chin. His back felt like a kinked up chain. Groaning, he sat up and groggily figured out that he was alone. When he tried to piece together his last memories, he cringed against the tree whose gnarled roots gouged his buttocks. Jan resisted believing what he had seen. He was not accustomed to feeling such intense fear. The Jesuits had spoken truly of the devilry now rampart in the land.

  He shifted off the uncomfortable roots. His throbbing head disliked moving, but he crawled into the road. His hand slipped on something wet and his face flopped against a dead dog in a pool of blood. Jan had to admit that it took a stout-hearted man to face down a pack of dogs like Thal had.

  He’s no man, Jan thought, forcing the reality to stay in his mind. The blow to the head notwithstanding, Jan knew that he was not afflicted with hallucinations.

  His solitary state was frightening. Being alone in the desperate hour before dawn with a werewolf made all other monster stories tame.

  Groping around the road, he climbed over another dog body. It was darker than earlier. The moon was lower in the sky and wooded hills were blocking its topaz shine.

  Barely audible among the night songs of crickets and frogs were gentle foot falls. Jan frantically sought his sword. He grabbed its handle but a bare foot stomped onto the blade and kept him from raising it. Jan looked up. Naked except for a fur tied around his loins, Thal backhanded Jan across the face. The captain spun into the dirt and Thal pounced on his back. He wrapped an arm under Jan’s chin and choked him until his struggles started to fade. Then he flung him back in the dirt and yanked off his boots.

  Gasping and hacking, Jan could not stop him, not even when he pulled off his pants. Thal flipped Jan over and punched his jaw again. Stunned, Jan could only feebly hinder Thal as he removed the armor, a padded vest, and a shirt.

  Thal got up and retrieved the sword. He stood over Jan and pressed the point into his throat.

  “Don’t go after those Gypsies. I won’t be traveling with them anymore,” Thal said.

  “Bugger yourself,” Jan said.

  Thal nicked Jan under the right earlobe. The man cried out. Thal set a foot on his stomach.

  “If I ever hear of you doing anything to those people, I’ll hunt you down and kill you,” Thal said.

  “Best do it now or you’ll regret it,” Jan dared him.

  With a quick swirl of the sword, Thal nicked below Jan’s other ear.

  “Andreli told me not to kill anyone. You owe him your life for he’s the only reason I’m feeling charitable with you,” Thal said.

  Jan lashed out, but Thal stomped on his stomach. He stepped away and let Jan writhe and gasp.

  “Don’t pursue me. I’ll smell you long before you reach me. And don’t think to get me with dogs. No dog alive can take me,” Thal said proudly.

  After grunting through his pain like a laboring woman, Jan said, “You can’t take a man’s clothes.”

  “You wanted my fur,” Thal countered without any guilt. He expected that Jan could readily replace his clothing and gear whereas he had nothing. The Gypsies had a point about stealing.

  Jan growled in frustration. His humiliation was overtaking his terror. It would almost be better if the monster killed him. “You won’t get away. I’ll see that the Rosenbergs and the Church make you a wanted man. There’ll be a bounty too,” Jan threatened.

  “Then be ready to offer a handsome amount because hunting me will be a costly affair,” Thal said.

  Jan lurched to his feet. A sharp pebble bit his foot and he cursed. His battered body and throbbing head made him stagger.

  “You’ll be sent back to Hell in greasy ashes!” he fumed.

  Walking away, Thal lifted a hand as if in farewell. Without looking back, he said, “You should’ve been contented to lose your pistol in a fair hand of cards. That’s what an honest and decent man would have done.”

  Ugly curses gouted from the guard captain’s mouth. Thal took note of them for their linguistic novelty, but did not reply. He hurried up the road with his bundle of clothes until he found Andreli. Dropping his stolen items, he kneeled beside the wounded man. The little dog danced around him and licked the swelling bruise along his ribs.

  Andreli had wadded his cloak against his bleeding shoulder and appeared asleep, but he started awake when Thal touched him.

  The cloak was wet with blood and its meaty reek made Thal’s head swim. Conflicting feelings vied for control of his senses. Part of him was desperately worried for his kind host, but his deeper nature was excited by the prospect of fresh meat.

  “My foolishness has gotten you killed,” Thal lamented and hung his head.

  “Thal, I’m not dead yet,” Andreli said.

  “But you’re so hurt,” Thal moaned.

  “I’m hoping to live,” Andreli said, and there was some vibrant force in his voice.

  “Oh,” Thal said. It had not occurred to him that Andreli could be helped. A bad wound to a pac
k member usually meant a sad lingering death.

  “What can I do?” Thal asked.

  Andreli sat up with a groan. He kept pressure against his shoulder.

  “Thal, are you naked again?” he asked.

  A little sheepishly Thal sighed. That was an embarrassing side effect of his alternative existence. “I have new clothes,” he said and pulled his bundle forward. He set his fur aside and started dressing in Jan’s clothing. The pants were loose, but the boots fit reasonable well. He was pleased to have the sturdy foot coverings that denoted a man of some regard. The first glimmer of daylight thinned the darkness and Andreli saw Thal clearly for the first time. A nasty horseshoe-shaped bruise was on his ribs. Thal pulled down the shirt and covered his injury. Then he reached for the armor.

  “Is that Jan’s?” Andreli asked with alarm.

  “Yes.”

  “He’ll hunt us down and feed us to hogs,” Andreli said.

  “I told him I’d kill him if he ever troubles you. So if he does, try to send me word,” Thal said.

  “Where are you going?” Andreli wondered.

  “Prague to look for my mother,” Thal said.

  “But Jan will spread the word about you…about what you are,” Andreli said. He shrank away from Thal a little, overwhelmed by the dark truth about his forest foundling.

  “The stories of back country men-at-arms that got their noses bloodied by a simple vagabond,” Thal countered as he planned how to discredit the wild tales that would surely billow from the region like the smoke of a forest fire.

  Dressed now, Thal tossed his fur over his shoulders and tucked his new pistol and powder horn into his pants. He offered Andreli a hand and said, “We might need to hurry.”

  Both men grunted when Thal hauled Andreli to his feet. The pain in his ribs was growing intense.