Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  “Is he the one that bit you?” Vito asked.

  Rainer rubbed his shoulder. It was hard to be sure because the beast that had assaulted him had not been in the form of a man. “I don’t think so,” he said.

  Vito was forced to wonder just how many were-beasts roamed the world. Rainer was valuable to him, and Vito expected to go far with the rare power of this special monk at his beck and call, and Thal enflamed his greed for an even better servant. Thal had seemed superior, more confident, and mentally undisturbed by his condition. Vito imagined excitedly what Thal must be like during a transformation with all that grace and self assurance at his core.

  “Brother, he will come for me,” Rainer whined.

  “Why would he?” Vito asked.

  “I don’t know what he’ll do to me,” Rainer said and shut his eyes and shook his head.

  Gently Vito patted Rainer’s arm to soothe the man who loathed his condition. “God protects you now. Fear not. No Devil shall ever have at you again. Anyway, Rainer, we must fetch this Thal to us. Imagine what we might learn from him!” Vito said.

  Rainer peeked at his master trustingly, wanting to believe that Vito could control any situation.

  “Don’t try to catch him. I beg you,” Rainer said.

  “Then why did you even tell me about him?” Vito said, annoyed by Rainer’s perpetually conflicted thoughts.

  “I was afraid,” Rainer said.

  “Don’t be. The moon is dark. This Thal will only have the powers of a man tonight. Come,” Vito said and urged Rainer toward the door.

  Reluctantly Rainer left with Vito. He slinked behind his leader nervously. The other monks waiting in the hall regarded him with sleepy curiosity, but each man knew not to pry into Vito’s business.

  The sellswords occupied the next room. Vito banged on their door. After a couple grumpy curses, Tenzo opened the door.

  “Problem, Brother?” he asked while scratching his beard.

  “Go find that man Thal. He said he’s traveling with musicians, so check the tavern. Bring him to me. Brother Rainer will help you find him,” Vito said.

  Rainer took half a step back, wanting to protest the order, but a hard look from Vito warned him to be compliant.

  The sellswords headed across the village with Rainer. Vito waited anxiously and went over in his mind what he intended to say to Thal. Could he intimidate Thal and make him subservient? Or should he tempt him with power and rewards?

  His guards surprised him when they returned quickly and empty-handed. Tenzo reported that Thal and the musicians had fled the village.

  He fears me then, Vito thought. “Go after him,” he instructed.

  When the sellswords left to saddle their horses, Vito stopped Rainer from slinking back to his room. “Go with them and track this new beast. A horse will bear you when there is no moon.”

  “Yes, Brother,” Rainer said, burdened by a conflicting mix of dread and curiosity.

  ******

  Returning to the road, Thal hurried northward from the village. His companions followed without complaint. They believed that only a true danger would spook Thal.

  Pistol cut in front of Thal’s legs to get his attention. He looked back. A starry night barely revealed the contours of the hedgerows and fields around the dark blocky outline of the village. A mellow breeze sighed through the leaves. A disorderly symphony of frogs sang of fertility. And a hot line of torches blazed orange against the village walls. Thal guessed that it was the monk’s men pursuing him.

  “What does he want of me?” Thal whispered.

  “Who?” Regis asked back.

  “The Jesuit monk that tried to recruit me. Now he’s sent men to get me,” Thal explained.

  “But you don’t know why?” Regis said.

  “No.”

  Raphael urged everyone to get going again. Thal led them onward and his mind raced for a solution. The riders would overtake them on the road in a short time. He assumed that the wolfman would be able to track his scent even if he tried to go back into the fields.

  Up ahead he smelled flowing water. A tributary to the nearby Vltava must be close. Thal tried to calculate how to lose his pursuers. They could cross the water and put a gap in their trail, but how easy would the water be to cross? The water might be too fast or deep. He was not sure if any of his companions could swim.

  “Why are you slowing down?” Regis asked.

  “You must go ahead without me. Stay on the road. Keep going north,” Thal said.

  “What about you?” Regis said, truly concerned.

  “I must end this hunt,” Thal said. He took off his cloak and then his shirt.

  The other three men could not quite tell what he was doing because of the dark. Thal took off his clothes and boots. He laid his gun, knives, and belt on the clothing bundle. Reluctantly he took off his hat and set it on top and then wrapped everything with his cloak. He forced the bundle into Regis’s hands. The man was astonished to receive Thal’s possessions, including his gun.

  “Have you gone mad?” Regis cried.

  Thal actually thought he was being quite careful. He had no desire to lose another set of clothes. “Keep my things until I catch up,” he said.

  Carlo and Raphael babbled questions in their language, and Regis begged him to use his gun.

  “That won’t be enough,” Thal said. He understood that one good shot and two hunting knives were not going to defeat six hard mercenaries on horseback.

  “But you’re naked!” Regis wailed, utterly confused.

  “Take care of my things. I’ll need them back. Now go. If I stop them, I’ll find you. If I lose, I suppose you will get away. Sell my gun. It will fetch you a good price,” Thal said.

  Rumbling hooves and a distant shout were ominous in the black night.

  “Do as I say and don’t look back,” Thal said very forcefully.

  Regis quailed from him, clutching the bundle of clothes. Thal’s words had vibrated through him like a trumpet bombast aimed at his heart.

  The musicians all possessed a healthy sense of self preservation, and the noise of the oncoming riders squashed their arguments. Thal was either insane or had the Devil on his side. Either way they could not stay with him. They ran away as he bid them to do. Pistol slinked to the edge of the road, growling low in his throat.

  Thal pressed the fur against his face. Its softness tickled his lips and nose. Its Earthy scent reassured him. He wanted to use the magic and considered if the spell would work without the light of the moon. The moonlight possessed a special spice that enhanced the power given to him upon an altar in a distant glade. But with crisis descending on him, he now knew that he was not at the mercy of lunar variation. Many years he had been a true wolf, bright with the true spirit of the wild. The black heart of the night was for the cold blooded hunt. Countless times his paws had padded silently through the shadowed forest, and his jaws had delivered death unwitnessed.

  He draped the fur around his hips. His lips quivered with the desire to speak the spell, but he held his tongue. The beckoning mayhem of his animal power was rushing over the walls of civilization, but he paused to remind himself that he was not evil. He had to exist as a man too, and dead bodies in his wake were not something to be done lightly. He remembered Andreli’s plea to avoid murder because of the trouble it could bring.

  “Don’t kill the men,” he whispered and then gave into the magic.

  He spoke the spell, relishing every syllable. Even the pain was pleasurable when the magic stretched and twisted his flesh. Heat surged through his muscles and his skin prickled with the eruption of thick fur. He gnashed his teeth and loved the satisfying snap of thick fangs. His tail bristled to its tip. He missed having a tail and he swished it back and forth, recalling the nuances of a language lost to him when he was a man.

  He threw back his head and roared at the stars. He pushed his mighty voice into the world and reveled in the quaking response of every blade of grass and creature that cringed from
the sounding beast.

  Frightened horses squealed. Streamers of flame shifted in circles instead of barreling straight ahead. Thal bounded toward the suddenly erratic torchlight. He loped on all fours, covered by the night like spilled ink on written words. Pistol shadowed him.

  He charged the riders with a fury that would make them fear the night more properly for the rest of their days. The panicked horses were already turning to flee. Thal crashed into the first horse he met and knocked the animal over. Its rider yelled and flew to the ground. Thal reared up in the middle of the group and snarled savagely. Men screamed with total terror. Thal slashed at them with his claws and nipped at the horses. The sellswords scattered on their frightened steeds except for one man who bravely hacked at Thal with a sword. The blade sliced his chest. Thal swiped at the weapon and knocked it to the ground while surely breaking the arm that had held it. The pain of his wound triggered his instinct to kill. He leaped upon the yelling man and they tumbled off the horse. Thal landed on top of the man and lunged for his throat. The tangy fear smell of the man halted Thal’s killing bite because he remembered that he should not kill men if he could avoid it. His fangs lightly grazed the skin but left no mark. His tongue felt the thumping pulse of the racing blood beneath the skin before he tore off into the darkness.

  Thal chased the horse with Rainer upon it. The monk was heading swiftly back to Mirotice. Coming alongside the horse, Thal managed to grab Rainer’s thigh. The man and beast tumbled and rolled off the road. When they came to a stop, Thal seized Rainer’s robe with his jaws and dragged him away. Rainer yelled for help. Awkwardly Thal slapped a hand-like paw over the man’s mouth and switched to walking upright. He mostly muffled the monk’s pleas for rescue and rushed across a field.

  The sellswords were recovering from the assault and reassembling. All but one of their torches had gone out, and a single light zigzagged along the road as its bearer located his comrades.

  Tall green oats reached high on Thal’s body and he left a clear trail as he trampled the thickly planted grain. Relying on darkness to cover his reckless abduction, he ran as fast as he could with his struggling burden.

  Beyond the field they reached a patch of woods. Thal tossed Rainer hard against a big tree. The impact knocked the wind out of the monk and he lay gasping at the thick-clawed feet of the beast that had taken him.

  When Rainer looked up, the dark outline of a powerful and shaggy man-shaped creature loomed over him. Puffing heavy breaths and greenish glowing eyes pressed down on Rainer. Remembering the horrible attack that had altered his flesh, Rainer moaned and trembled. He made it up to his knees and grabbed the precious cross hanging upon his chest. He blathered prayers and begged for protection.

  Thal observed the man’s groveling misery. His wits were caged by trauma. Thal pitied him and stepped back. Hope lit Rainer’s face as he assumed that his prayers were working. Jabbering to his Lord, he tried to scramble to his feet, but Thal jumped close again and cowed him with a snarl.

  Rainer knew that he could not outrun this creature. Desperately he held up his cross to ward it off. Thal backed off and paced. He eyed his catch with predatory intensity.

  Back on the road, the other men were shouting for Rainer. When the monk tried to respond, Thal growled in his face. Rainer wilted into trembling silence. Thal snuffled him all over. He detected only normal clothing and found no trace of an enchanted skin hidden anywhere.

  Rainer scooted back until his back hit the tree. Thal waited to see if he would attempt to transform, but he apparently had no spell to speak to summon the power that Thal sensed inside him.

  On the other side of the field, one flickering torch was at the place where Thal’s obvious trail cut across the tall oats.

  Thal circled behind the tree and consciously let go of the magic. His spirit shuddered as he pried it loose from his animal state. Part of him did not want to return to the restrictive life of a man with its soft body and unnatural laws.

  Rainer heard the panting and grunting and recognized what the sounds meant. Seizing his chance, he ran.

  Thal got off his hands and knees. All his muscles hurt because of his transformation and the deep cut was bleeding liberally. Despite the pain he raced after Rainer. The dark could not hide the fleeing monk.

  Rainer yelled for his companions before Thal tackled him. Thal rolled him over and pinned his arms against the ground. The tall green oats hid them like long hair hid fleas.

  “What are you?” Thal whispered.

  Terrified of the heavy breathing naked man on top of him, Rainer looked into the many-colored eyes of the one who had captured him. He was amazed by the speed and ease with which Thal had shifted. Rainer was weak and disoriented for hours after returning to his man form.

  He shook his head, too frightened to speak.

  The shouting sellswords were spreading through the field, heedlessly trampling the growing grain. Thal did not have much time.

  “Tell me,” he hissed. His eyes flashed with fierce determination that pulled Rainer’s will down like a fawn in his jaws.

  “Just a servant of Christ,” Rainer squeaked.

  “But not always,” Thal said.

  Rainer whimpered. “When the moon is fat I can’t stop it. I become like you.”

  “How did this happen to you?” Thal demanded. Not far away a sellsword rushed into the woods. He hollered for his associate with the guttering torch.

  “A werewolf bit me last fall,” Rainer said, and he suddenly felt good about revealing this information to Thal. He longed for the empathetic bond.

  “There’s another one,” Thal said mostly to himself. He was staggered by the information. How many creatures such as him were there? Were they limited like Rainer who was at the mercy of the moon?

  Seeing Thal distracted by his thoughts, Rainer pushed hard and Thal had to grapple with him. Rainer yelled and the other men quickly focused on the sound.

  Fearful of capture or death, Thal let Rainer go and ran toward the man with the torch. He approached him from behind and pushed him over. The man cried out and fell on his face. The torch went out and Thal jumped on the man’s back. With the man pinned he plucked the drawn sword from his hand and jumped up. He ran to the woods to fetch his precious fur off the ground. Tossing it over his shoulder he ran away. When he got back to the road, Pistol raced along at his side. The confused yelling of the sellswords faded as Thal got away.

  When he could run no more, he bent over with his hands on his knees and raggedly drew in deep breaths. Blood dripped from his chest. The fleshy smell of his hot flowing blood worried him. This was making his trail easy to follow. Gingerly he fingered the deep cut. It hurt badly. Thal resolved to take greater care at not getting hurt the next time he gave battle as a werewolf. Thanks to Rainer he now had a word for what he was.

  Pistol sniffed the blood and licked Thal’s ankle.

  “I’ll be all right,” Thal said and plodded on. Enormous weariness dragged at him.

  He reached a fork in the road. It twisted west and a smaller lane curved down toward the little river. His companions had gone that way. Through the trees he saw a light. As he approached it he heard Regis’s accented voice and noted the pleading tone. Upon reaching the water Thal found a shack with a rickety ferry tied up next to it. His friends were inside and he hurried to the door and kicked it open.

  A white haired man with powerful arms and a poxy face yelled. Already pulled out of a good sleep by three foreign musicians, he was rattled and wholly unprepared for the sight of a blood smeared naked man bursting in his door.

  “Saints protect me!” he cried and dove for a window. He shoved the shutters hard and they burst open with flying splinters.

  “Stop him!” Thal shouted, and Carlo and Raphael seized the old sturdy fellow.

  “Thal!” Regis cried in both greeting and alarm.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Thal said, hoping he was right.

  Carlo and Raphael held the ferryman by both arm
s. Thal pointed his sword at the man’s chest and said, “I assume you were about to agree to take my friends across the water.”

  Habitual stubbornness overruled the ferryman’s shock. “I don’t cross at night,” he insisted. He had not gone through the trouble of building a ferry crossing so other people could lord over his life.

  “It’s a lovely night. I’m sure you can make an exception,” Thal said.

  “I had just talked him into letting us camp here. We were going to wait for you,” Regis said.

  “We’re crossing now,” Thal said. He gestured for Regis to give him his clothes.

  Regis unbound the bundle and looked for Thal’s pants. Thal put his sword on a table with a metallic clang and slapped a hand over his bleeding wound.

  “No need to run off, Sir. We aren’t going to hurt you,” Thal said.

  Carlo and Raphael let him go but blocked the window.

  “You rogues need to get out,” the ferryman declared.

  “Can you get me a rag?” Thal asked.

  His unwilling host meant to protest, but the liquid warmth in Thal’s eyes softened his temper. “Don’t look at me like that, lad,” he muttered. He shouldered his way past Regis and opened a chest full of clothes and linens. He tossed a towel to Thal. “Why are you naked?” he said.

  “I didn’t want to ruin my clothes,” Thal said. He pressed the towel against his cut and red soaked into it. Carlo came over and helped wipe up the blood and look at the injury.

  “You need to be sewn. Maybe burnt,” Carlo said in his language.

  Mostly understanding what his friend meant, Thal nodded. Carlo got his backpack. He carried needles and thread and took care of everyone’s mending. He suggested that they heat one of Thal’s knives in a candle and burn the wound, but Regis argued that he heard that made things worse. Carlo grumbled that Regis knew nothing. Thal settled the matter and said to just stitch him up. He did not wish to add hot pokers to an already difficult evening.

  He got his pants and boots on and sat on the table so Carlo could work on him. Willing himself to take the pain, Thal looked over his gun and made sure that it was still primed and loaded.