Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  “What trouble are you bringing on me?” the ferryman asked.

  “Just take us across the water and it will be the last you see of us,” Thal said. “If anyone accuses you of aiding us tell them I put this gun to your head.”

  Now that Thal was sitting down, he started shaking. He was ravenously hungry. Regis brought him a cup of water and he gulped it greedily.

  Wiping his chin, he softly apologized to his companions for the trouble. The ferryman watched the four strangers warily while Pistol sniffed around his little home. Despite the strange intrusion, he gradually began to feel less threatened. These men had not harmed him, and he reminded himself that it was no sin to give hospitality to needy travelers.

  Once Thal was bandaged he finished dressing. He took out a coin and offered it to the ferryman. “Shall we go?” he said.

  The man took the coin and led them outside. They loaded their instruments and themselves onto the raft. It rocked and they hurried together into its middle for stability. The ferryman chuckled and took up his pole. He had the ferry secured by a heavy rope across the water and he pushed them out into the current. The tributary was flowing smoothly and they were soon across. Pistol was the first to jump onto the bank.

  The musicians thanked the ferryman and trooped up the trail behind Thal.

  “Don’t come back,” the ferryman muttered even though he looked forward to sharing his strange tale when next he went to the village.

  Chapter 13. Soul Shadow of Man

  Thal led his little party into the hills. He wanted to be well away from any roads before daylight. The dark did not trouble him, and he found paths tolerable to the footing of men even in trackless places. But branches still whacked the musicians and happy mosquitoes nipped at the unexpected interlopers.

  Finally at the first light of day, Thal stopped. Although he had hidden it until this moment, he was the most exhausted of any of them. He found a spot where the boughs of gnarled pines conveniently formed a secret space, and he collapsed on the ground. His dull eyes stared at the brown bed of pine needles. He had not felt this depleted after his first transformation. He suspected the lack of a full moon had made his flesh less resilient to the forces that he commanded.

  His companions flopped tiredly onto their butts and stretched out their legs. They regarded Thal thoughtfully. His wheezing breath indicated deep sleep. Scruffy whiskers were growing in on his cheeks alongside the goatee he had been trying to shape.

  “Why has he led us to this desolate place?” Raphael said.

  “Why did we follow him is the better question?” Regis said.

  “He said we were in danger,” Carlo reminded.

  “Riders with torches in the night are a serious thing,” Regis reflected. “But why would monks want him so badly?”

  “Why did he fight them naked?” Carlo said.

  The men shook their heads. Thal’s bizarre performance was both astonishing and utterly disturbing.

  Carlo continued, “He was in a fight. That sword cut on his chest is real. How could he fight men with swords and get away when he’s naked?” The dark-haired man threw up his hands, tossing out his question for someone to catch and answer.

  “He even came back with a sword,” Raphael noted quietly.

  “He might have killed someone,” Carlo whispered and glanced apprehensively at Thal.

  “We’ll just have to make him tell us what happened,” Regis decided. He smoothed back his long blonde hair and twirled it with his fingers at the back of his head while he yawned.

  “All we can do is rest right now,” Raphael decided.

  The three men spread their blankets beneath the pines. Pistol curled up next to Thal, and everyone slept through till afternoon.

  Thal opened his eyes first. A suslik was rotating a little pine cone and nibbling out the seeds. When it realized Thal was awake, it tossed aside the cone and scurried away. Pistol tore off after it and was soon engaged in a hectic game of hide and seek among little holes throughout the grove.

  Thal pushed himself up and immediately his wound stung. The scabbing flesh pulled against the blunt stitches. He combed his fingers through his hair and noticed that it was getting longer. He slapped his hat back on and scanned the area and listened carefully. Birds and scampering wee animals rustled through the woodland, but he sensed no threats.

  He pondered his brief encounter with Brother Vito. The man had an inscrutable quality that unsettled Thal, who could read most people with ease. He did not understand Vito’s motivations or purpose.

  And Rainer had obviously been under Vito’s mastery. Thal understood firmly now that he did not want a leader. He would lead or be alone.

  Appreciatively he looked over his three sleeping companions. He regretted the harrowing cross country flight he had just taken them on.

  Quietly he stole away and left them undisturbed. With his hunting knife he cut and fashioned four small spears and set off in search of food. Pistol padded along with him, determined to be helpful.

  The silent concentration needed to find and stalk prey pushed back Thal’s anxieties. His immersion in the wild setting cleared his mind. Reducing the world to scents and sights and strategy reminded him of the simple pleasure of existence. He was flowing along with the forces of all the living things in a harmony as gentle as seedlings poking through soft soil.

  With the aid of Pistol, he found a rabbit warren and the digging little dog tore into it and caused a general panic. Thal dug with one spear alongside his dog until they breached the inner sanctum and the rabbits dashed into various tunnels. Thal bounded toward one exit and speared one as it flew out at high speed. Pistol ran around trying to catch others, but he failed and went back to his digging until he found kits to fill his belly.

  Thal lifted his spear with the scrawny rabbit dangling bloody from the end. It was not much to share among four men.

  He noticed a little blood soaking into his shirt. His digging and thrusting had aggravated the fresh stitches. He looked in his shirt. The wound was still held shut but the skin around it was swollen and red.

  The day was waning. Splendid shafts of light kissed the woods with gold, and a smile graced his face as he walked back to his friends. On his way he found some mushrooms and plucked them up. They would add greatly to the supper.

  When he neared the grove of pines, he hailed the other men and held up his kill. “I thought everyone would like some fresh meat tonight,” he said.

  “Thank God!” Regis cried. “We thought you abandoned us. We have no idea which way the road is.”

  Thal gestured south with the rabbit. The direction was obvious to him. “But I plan to go straight north through these wild hills,” he said.

  “We’ll get lost,” Regis warned.

  For doubting him Thal gave him a condescending look. He squatted and started gutting and skinning the rabbit. His knife cut without error and he slipped the skin off in one quick pull.

  “We’ll find trouble if we backtrack. Better to keep in the direction of Prague. We’ll come out on a road eventually and get back to playing at taverns soon enough,” Thal said confidently.

  Raphael made an indignant comment that Thal did not quite catch. He glanced to Regis for a translation. The handsome Venetian picked his next words carefully. “Thal, you know we like you, but last night was, well, surprising to us. We need you to tell us what happened.”

  Thal stuck the rabbit carcass back on the spear and sat back. He rubbed his fingers and looked at the blood. He wanted to lick it off.

  “The monk Brother Vito asked me to join his group. I’m not sure why. He said he was looking for men. I was curious and spent some time talking with him. I carelessly mentioned that I was traveling with musicians, and I feared that I offended him when I declined to join him. Once I realized he might be angry, I was worried that he would look for musicians in order to find me. He had armed men with him. I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of me, and I thought if we could get out of that plac
e quickly then nothing would come of it.”

  His companions believed him, but he had carefully avoided the larger issue.

  “Thal,” Regis said reproachfully. “You gave me all your clothes and weapons and faced riders, took a wound, but still made it back to us. How can this be?”

  “I’m quite good in a fight,” Thal said.

  “Obviously,” Regis said impatiently.

  The three musicians stared at Thal, waiting for him to say more. Because his actions had been so incredible they did not feel that expressing their demands with more words was necessary.

  “I don’t know how to explain,” Thal murmured.

  Regis recognized deep turmoil in his chosen guardian. He had not seen Thal appear so troubled before, but now he realized that the steely young man had been hiding behind a façade.

  He set a hand on Thal’s shoulder. “We won’t judge you,” he said.

  “It’s not your judgment I fear,” Thal said.

  “Then what?” Regis cried.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you. I count you as my friends,” Thal said, and the vulnerability of his sincerity contrasted with the normal confidence his companions had come to expect of him.

  “Do you have mad fits?” Regis asked soberly.

  Thal shook his head. Accepting that he had to tell them something, he said, “I have powers, but I am in control of them.”

  Gasps were their collective reply. Several comments in their language flew around until Regis asked, “Do you mean like a magician or…warlock?”

  “Magic is the only word I have for it,” Thal said.

  “What can you do?” Carlo asked in awkward Czech.

  Thal stood up and turned his back on them. He believed the truth would frighten them too much, but they had shown him so much trust last night, and it felt wrong to keep his secret. He tasted of the difficulty Rainer must face in daily existence. Thal pondered how his true nature would burden his life.

  “I become like a beast. That’s why I took off my clothes so I would not ruin them,” he said.

  Their stunned silence pressed against his back and he continued, “I don’t want you to ever see me that way. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” He faced them. “I’m a man. I want you to think of me as a man.”

  The men nodded weakly, silenced by their deepening shock.

  Thal decided he had shared too many details. He had been a weakling and a fool. “I’ll get you back to a road and we can part ways so I will trouble you no more. It’ll be for the best,” he said. To part with them would be painful, but he locked down his feelings like a prisoner on the rack. If he could leave his pups, he could walk away from a few traveling companions.

  Although Regis was shocked by Thal’s revelations, he could not escape his sympathy and fondness for Thal. “Let’s not talk of you abandoning us on the side of the road. We’ll get a fire going and cook that dinner. Then play a little music. Music tames the beast, right?” He laughed a little.

  Thal smiled, a little overwhelmed by Regis’s nervous attempt at accommodation.

  Thankful for something normal to do, Carlo and Raphael gathered firewood. Thal noticed their furtive glances in his direction as they saw him from a new perspective.

  After Thal got the rabbit roasting on a spit over the fire, he whittled a thin stick to skewer the mushrooms. He held them over the fire and concentrated on gently roasting them.

  Carlo asked him a question and Thal had to ask him to repeat himself. On the second attempt Thal understood that Carlo was concerned the mushrooms might not be safe.

  “They’re good. I assure you,” Thal said, rather looking forward to them. He had recognized them right away and not had any doubts about their edibility. Carlo still looked doubtful.

  “If you don’t want any, it’s more for me,” Thal said.

  Carlo looked upon the crinkly capped mushrooms anew. His hunger urged him to be more daring.

  When the food was ready, Carlo indulged in the mushrooms just like everyone else. They savored them and praised Thal for the find.

  Still clueless as to how to digest Thal’s weird confession, the musicians turned to their favored form of expression. In the twilight next to their crackling pine-scented fire, they played their instruments. Thal lounged on his side. Their music massaged his spirit. Stars slowly brightened until it was fully night, and the drooping pine boughs around their hidden camp were silhouetted by the orange firelight.

  After Raphael and Carlo put away their zink and lute and stretched out to rest, Regis still plucked his harp and attempted to compose a few lines.

  Thal is man and beast,

  Unbeaten west to east.

  With his hat and gun

  He walks under the sun.

  Down roads then up

  With traders he will sup,

  Defending the good

  And ruling the wood.

  When comes the night,

  He grows in might.

  He fears no weapon or blow,

  Always knocking his enemies low.

  Music can this beast tame

  Join me and sing his fame.

  Regis sighed with frustration. “Needs to be better,” he muttered.

  Thal sat up a little. “So you believe me then?” he asked.

  Regis put his harp away with loving care. “I believe you believe what you said,” he said.

  “So you don’t believe in magic creatures?” Thal pressed.

  “Of course I do. I just never expect to keep one’s company, and it makes it hard to believe,” Regis said. “Did you like the song?”

  “I suggest you keep working on it,” Thal said charitably.

  “I know.”

  “Even so, I’m rather flattered,” Thal added.

  “We’ve done well since you appeared. I think you’re good luck,” Regis said.

  “You put a heavy burden on me then,” Thal remarked. “Most people would think me of the Devil.”

  “Bah!” Regis said and waved a hand. “Everything these days is said to be wrong and Devil-inspired. If a man has a free thought, he’s a sinner.”

  Thinking of the many free thoughts his father must have had, Thal wondered if there was a point that was too far in such things. He had been willing to become what he was. He remembered that much. Had his father needed to convince him? Or had Thal asked this magic of his father? He had so many questions. He had to get to Prague.

  “We should get some rest,” Thal said.

  “Good night,” Regis said.

  As Thal listened to the trees swish in the breeze, he gently fingered his tender wound. The bleeding had stopped, but the sting was constant. With his other hand, he stroked his dog’s head and drifted into sleep.

  Later in the night, his eyes popped open when Pistol’s head rose. He drew in the crisp night air, and his senses lit up with alarm. He sat straight up. Pistol trotted away growling.

  Quickly he got his gun and hurried over to a tree. He smelled men and he analyzed the air in every direction and listened closely. Six men were advancing on the camp, coming from two directions. Thal’s first thought was that it was Rainer and the sellswords, but the scent was unfamiliar. A strong reek of prolonged unwashed nastiness and foul hearts told him of a new danger. His friends had mentioned that bandits roamed remote corners. The music must have attracted them from a distance because Thal had noted no sign of these threatening men earlier.

  He quietly roused his friends. “Get ready to fight. Men are coming,” he said.

  “We’re not fighters,” Raphael protested.

  Thal understood despite the language difference. “They mean to kill us,” he said matter-of-factly. As surely as sun warms dark metal, he felt the sinister purpose of the skulking men.

  “Don’t let them grab you,” Thal advised.

  Pistol started barking in the brush. Thal grabbed his sword and ran toward the sound with gun and blade. Someone yelled at the dog. Another man grumbled that th
eir surprise was spoiled.

  “Just rush in!” shouted a voice.

  Thal spotted three figures in the dark. Crouching into the cover of vegetation, he shouted, “Who are you?”

  “I’m about to be ye lord and master,” yelled back one man.

  Pistol snarled and a man cussed at teeth nipping his breeches. “Damn dog! Get off!”

  “Go away or I’ll attack,” Thal warned. He saw that the two men not dancing around Pistol’s persistent snaps were beating the bushes trying to locate him.

  “We’ll bend you over like a priest’s boy,” laughed a man.

  Thal heard his friends cry out as they were beset by the other group of prowlers. He hoped they could fend off the nasty men for a little while.

  Done with his attempt at avoiding a fight, Thal stuck his pistol in his belt and drew a knife from his boot. Armed with two blades, he rushed the closest man and hacked down with his sword into his head.

  The impact of the blade with the skull made an awful sound. A spray of hot blood peppered Thal’s cheek. The stink of the man gagged him.

  The bandit dropped to his knees, thoroughly felled by the mortal blow, and crashed on his face. His nearest comrade swung a club. Thal ducked and then lunged forward. He thrust the sword point into the man’s torso. The bandit screamed. Frozen by the sharp agony, he could not react when Thal thrust his knife into his face. The blade plunged through nose cartilage and skidded on the skull until it pierced deeply. Thal yanked out both blades and bounded toward the third figure kicking at his dog.

  This man had a club too, and he swung it wildly across the darkness. Hitting nothing, he lifted his club to swing again, but the little dog shaking his leg made him look down. Thal attacked. His sword chopped into the man’s biceps. Following soon afterward was a knife to the heart. The sternum split with a sharp crack beneath the knife point and Thal shoved it all the way in.

  With his foot, Thal pushed the body off his blade. The man fell back with a thud and Pistol snuffled him victoriously. Thal’s chest heaved. His large muscles shook from the intensity of the encounter. Swiftly he had slain three men, and he grappled with a surge of violent mania. Thal beheld the bestial soul shadow of men that could kill without hunger. It rose up before him like a mirror that reflected only darkness.