Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  Altea relaxed and let his restrained passion distract her from the pain. She longed to know more of what they could do together, but her injuries demanded that their touches remain tentative. The tickling prickle of his facial hair against her chin and the light explorations of his tongue renewed her spirit. Her world was shattered but she could imagine the joys that life with Thal would bring.

  After she fell asleep, Thal sat up and spread his fur over her. The moonlight made him itch with the need to transform but it was best that his fur keep her warm through the night.

  He even hoped that the enchanted fur would lend some of its power to her flesh and speed her healing. He wondered what would happen if he spoke the spell with the fur on her instead of himself, but he dared not experiment. He might corrupt her flesh somehow or make her a raving beast worse than Rainer.

  Reflecting upon his disastrous encounters with the other werewolf, he regretted that he had not been more forceful with Rainer. Perhaps if he had commanded him more precisely then he would have obeyed and be alive. Thal still believed that he could have helped the monk make peace with his condition.

  And that condition was likely something Thal could inflict upon others. He expected that his father would be able to tell him more about his powers.

  Anticipation to meet with Sarputeen burned inside him, but all of that must wait until Altea was able to travel.

  Gently he ran a hand across the fur over the curve of her hip. His carnal curiosity smoldered with impatience. No matter how much his conscience lashed him for the wrongs he had done to her, his lust could not be shamed. When the time came for them to join in love, he would act with joy.

  Chapter 48. Three More Fugitives

  Valentino lounged in Carmelita’s bed. She had a very nice bed. If most people knew how comfortable her bed was, he imagined they would kill her in fits of jealousy. He was content to share it.

  Rolling over he snuggled his face against the smooth cotton pillow case. His short beard scratched upon the fabric. He was due for a trim. Carmelita had left the drapes drawn so he could sleep in. He was surprised she had arisen so early. They had had much to talk about last night and not to talk about too.

  Valentino savored his lethargy. This luxury would give him the strength to battle through his next campaign.

  Eventually he heard the light clatter of a serving tray being delivered to Carmelita’s sitting room, and the promise of breakfast cleared away his sleepiness. Donning his silk robe, he joined her.

  “Good morning,” she greeted while the servant put fruit pastries still warm from the oven onto plates.

  He stepped over his boots in front of her bedchamber doors. His clothes were haphazardly tossed over a chair.

  She leaned out for a kiss and he obliged her while sliding into his chair.

  “Oh you’re rough,” she complained of his beard.

  “You love it,” he teased.

  Carmelita rolled her eyes. They ate in silence until finally she said, “Do you think we shall hear from Thal today?”

  “I’m sure we shall hear of his exploits,” Valentino said.

  “What an extraordinary creature,” she commented. The sight of him as a werewolf would amaze her until the grave. She felt privileged by the trust that Thal had shown her when he revealed himself. She wished she could have known him better. She anticipated telling Augustus about it when next they saw each other. She did not dare put the encounter into a letter.

  “It’s such a pity what happened to my musicians. Thank you for saving them,” she said.

  Valentino wiped his mouth on a napkin and started picking his teeth with the point of a knife. “You’ll have to send them away,” he decided.

  “No. I love their music. They’re special,” she protested.

  “My love, I say this for your safety. If one man knew they were friends of Thal, then others will know too. I can’t risk your association with him becoming an issue. You have other schemes to protect,” he explained.

  Although she pouted, she accepted his assessment and appreciated his attention to her security. “Where shall they go?” she said.

  Valentino shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Musicians are accustomed to living in the street,” he said.

  The steward rushed in without knocking. He looked confused.

  Carmelita popped to her feet. “You are not to barge in on me!” she scolded.

  “Sorry, my Lady, but a man is here to see you,” he said.

  “What man?”

  “A magician I believe,” the steward whispered.

  “I’m not meeting with any magician. Send him away!” she declared.

  “But he’s in the house, my Lady.”

  “In the house!” Carmelita cried.

  “Why did you let a strange man in the house?” Valentino demanded.

  The steward flapped his mouth but was stymied as to how to answer.

  “Because he’s forgotten how to do his duty. Now get the beggar out of here,” Carmelita said.

  “I’ll do it,” Valentino said, becoming concerned. He pulled on his boots over bare feet and grabbed his sword. On his way down the stairs and across the house, he noticed that the other servants had vanished. He found nobody in the foyer. The front door was open. He looked outside and saw a black horse browsing on Carmelita’s flowers.

  “Good morning.”

  Valentino whirled. A hooded man in a black cape sauntered out from the ball room.

  “You!” Valentino cried, certain that he recognized the rogue but he did not know how.

  The man put back his hood and slid a stray strand of black hair out of his face. “You must have a strong mind to recognize me, Condottiere,” he commented.

  Valentino raised his sword. “Get thee back into the street right now,” he ordered.

  “You and your fine Italian rapier,” Mileko said as if it were cute.

  Menacing anger overtook Valentino who advanced on Mileko clearly intending to skewer him and drag him out by the neck.

  “Thal Lesky sent me,” Mileko said.

  Valentino halted but refused to acknowledge the name.

  “I assure you I am not in league with those who mean to bring him to justice for his numerous crimes. Nor do I mean any harm to those Thal calls friends. I am Mileko, an agent of his father. Thal will be leaving Prague with me, but he asked that I visit this home and deliver a message to the musicians. Thal thought of you as well, Condottiere. Your presence here is convenient for me.”

  “Where have I seen you before?” Valentino asked suspiciously.

  “We spoke briefly the night before last,” Mileko said.

  Valentino nodded. He did remember now. “You made me think I was crazy,” he said.

  Mileko dipped his head as if receiving a compliment. “Please, I would prefer to complete this business quickly,” he said.

  Valentino yanked shut the front door. “Let me get dressed and we’ll go talk to the musicians,” he said.

  Back in Carmelita’s chambers, he quickly explained the new development while getting his clothes.

  “I must see him,” she said.

  “No! Stay away from him. He is a magician, but much more than any street trickster. Be wary I say,” Valentino said.

  She did not enjoy being told no and resolved to sneak after Valentino.

  He knew she was following him and waved her back just before he reached Mileko. She scooted around a corner and peeked as Valentino led the man toward the servants’ wing.

  The battered musicians had improved. Regis was quietly plucking his harp and scribbling the lines of a new song when Valentino came in with the darkly clad man.

  Raphael and Carlo joined them and they listened to Mileko tell of Thal and Altea.

  “Oh that poor woman,” Regis said.

  “How many people did Thal kill?” Raphael wondered.

  “I did not count the bodies,” Mileko said. “That matters not. I’m here to convey Thal’s deepest apologies for your misfortune. He
wishes you well.”

  Carlo moaned at the loss. Regis and Raphael were staggered by the news.

  Valentino cleared his throat. This seemed a good moment to tell them his bad news. “Gentlemen for the sake of your hostess I suggest you pack up and go,” he said.

  Outrage was their natural reaction but each man realized his notorious reputation threatened Carmelita. Proof that she had harbored the werewolf Thal needed to be lacking, despite all gossip.

  The three companions groaned at the prospect of immediate homelessness.

  “Where can we go?” Raphael said.

  “We could be killed if we go out there,” Carlo added, and his cut lips made the point well.

  Raphael groaned and said, “Oh how can Thal leave us like this?”

  “He thinks it would be more dangerous to us if he were with us,” Regis said quietly.

  “Enough!” Valentino barked. “I don’t know how such a magnificent creature puts up with you babies. Have you no thought for his plight? He hides in the woods with an injured woman.”

  He waved a hand at Mileko and was happy to actually startle him. “You! Take these musicians with you to Thal.”

  “No,” Mileko protested. His eyes darted among the agitated men. Their emotions were stirred, and Mileko beheld one of the situations his Master had warned him would be difficult. To divert the mind of those not really paying attention was far easier than influencing an upset group.

  “I can’t have these men,” Mileko continued while moving his hands into the inner pockets of his cloak.

  Valentino grabbed him by the shoulders. He grinned in Mileko’s face, knowing that he had thrown the sly one off his game. “You must take them, and I know where you will take them. There is a hunting cabin I know of. It is sometimes handy to have a place where someone can disappear. Thal can take that girl there to recuperate.” Gesturing broadly to the musicians, he added, “You will go there too and Thal can take care of you himself.”

  The three Venetians agreed readily and thanked the Condottiere. Mileko rigidly endured the proposal and resigned himself to the delay and the addition of three more fugitives.

  ******

  One comb had been among the handful of items Thal had grabbed from Altea’s room, and he was combing her hair. Her thumbs made the task impossible for her.

  Patiently he combed out the snarls with gentle tugs. Altea appreciated his kindness and his closeness. His fingers working through her hair were soothing.

  “I’m afraid to know what I look like,” she said.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “I’ve lost chunks of hair. I must look shocking,” she said.

  “It will grow back. It’s not so noticeable,” he said and moved some hair over a blank spot.

  After all the snarls were out, he was able to comb the hair through its whole length, which reached to the middle of her back. He admired its soft luster and arranged it around her shoulders. His hands massaged her shoulders and from there very lightly moved down onto the cushiony swell of her bosom. She leaned into him, and he put his chin on her shoulder and kissed her neck and cheek. He wanted to embrace her fiercely and roll around and do anything that his mind could imagine, but he dared not. She could bear only the lightest touching.

  Altea relaxed against his chest. She remembered when his arms had been covered with fur and had thick claws instead of fingers. She still had trouble reconciling what she had seen with the loving man who was taking care of her. His savage rage that she had witnessed in the torture chamber could have undone even Hercules. But that beast had Thal’s heart, and she told herself to never fear him. The werewolf was his special power. It would always make him reviled of society and now she was outcast too. She had dared to step into his world and learned she could never come back. But after seeing her world for what it truly was, she considered that the loss was not so tragic.

  “I still can’t believe I’m here,” she said.

  “You’re in shock. Don’t try to think about it too much yet,” Thal advised.

  Altea decided to take his advice so she asked him how he became a werewolf.

  “My memories are few. I know that my father did something to me to make me a wolf. But I was not just an animal. I was undying. I lived and lived. I’m older than I look. I can see the difference in Prague. There are many more buildings than when I was a youth. And you said my mother was old. I don’t remember her that way,” he said.

  “Her hair was all white when I knew her,” Altea said.

  “I think when the witch hunters came for her she cast a great spell. It made me change from a wolf to a man. I was in the forest with only this fur with my father’s writing upon it,” he said.

  It was spread across Altea’s lap. She feared to meet his sorcerer father who had made the weird blood writing, but she supposed they had no choice but to go to him.

  “Thal, if your mother had such great magic why did she not kill the men who killed her?” Altea wondered.

  “I don’t think she could use her magic to directly cause harm. I was her instrument. I killed them,” he said.

  Altea remembered the kindly care Gretchen had given to others. It was hard to imagine her hurting anyone.

  “Why couldn’t she use her magic to save my mother?” Altea said.

  “I’m sure she tried,” Thal said.

  “When my mother got very bad she asked Gretchen for something to kill her,” Altea said tearfully. She had never spoken the words aloud before. “How could your mother do that? Is that not hurting someone?”

  “She must’ve seen it as a mercy,” Thal offered.

  “It was,” Altea whispered.

  “Altea, magic is powerful, but I don’t think it can hold back death forever. Even I shall age and die,” he said.

  “You know that?”

  “I believe it,” he said. “At least I hope to get the chance to age. I seem to live dangerously.”

  Altea laughed and was surprised that she could, but it made her ribs hurt.

  He tensed behind her. “Riders,” he said.

  “How many?” she asked as he carefully moved her aside and propped her on the cart.

  “Not many. It should be Mileko but he’s not alone,” Thal said. He rushed off to his lookout. Pistol trotted at his heels.

  From his vantage point he spotted two riders coming across a meadow.

  “Valentino,” Thal said, very surprised, and he rushed down the hill and out of the trees. He stopped and waved before he got too close and annoyed their horses.

  The men dismounted and Valentino rushed up to Thal. They embraced. Mileko hung back to let them talk.

  Valentino stuck a finger on the ball embedded in Thal’s armor. “Ho! You got lucky. Don’t expect that to work every time,” Valentino said.

  “I’m planning to avoid battles from now on,” Thal said.

  Valentino’s expression showed his dubious opinion about Thal succeeding with that. “Watch your back. You’ve got a royal reward on you now. The ink is still drying but the reward is 200 florins. Congratulations,” he said.

  “So you’ve come to take me prisoner?” Thal said.

  “I know safer ways to risk my life making 200 florins,” Valentino said. “No, I’ve come to help, as usual. I hear your lady is in a poor way. I have a cabin you can hide in. I’ve already sent your musicians there. I’m remanding them to your care.”

  Thal was shocked by the generous gift of shelter. “You are a true friend,” he said.

  The Condottiere laughed. Thal was so sentimental. “It’s my habit to befriend powerful people,” he said.

  Mileko cut in. “We don’t have much daylight left and far to go this night,” he said.

  Thal led them to camp. The arrival of another man made Altea nervous. Armor and weapons on a stranger spiked her trauma and she cringed a little until Thal kneeled beside her.

  “Please meet Altea,” he said proudly as if she were not a battered escaped witch in bandages.

&
nbsp; Valentino removed a pack from his saddle bags. He took a knee close to her and flashed Thal an approving look. Valentino meant to kiss her hand, mostly to annoy Thal with jealousy, but then he saw her thumbs. Concern furrowed his brow because he recognized what had been done to her. The brown blood all over her torn clothes and the extensive bruising upset him. The poor girl could not have deserved it.

  “Lady Carmelita has sent you clothing,” he said and set down the bundle.

  She was speechless. Her tears welled up with gratitude.

  “Can you stand?” Valentino asked.

  “I think so,” she whispered.

  “Good. You’ll ride with me,” he said.

  “Where?” Altea asked and looked to Thal, who told her about the cabin.

  “You’re so kind,” she said, amazed.

  Valentino smiled. “I’m often not kind, but I’m no butcher of women,” he said.

  Valentino and Mileko withdrew to water their horses while Thal helped Altea dress. From beside the stream, Valentino overheard her cry out in pain several times while she moved. Sympathy lurched in his chest.

  “The world is sick,” he remarked to Mileko.

  “A man of war would know that well,” Mileko said.

  “And does your sneaking and tricking have any purpose?” Valentino asked.

  “I seek knowledge,” Mileko said with a prickly tone.

  “So you can control others, right?” the Condottiere said.

  Mileko looked away. “I’m no crude warmonger like you,” he said.

  With a grin Valentino abandoned the conversation. He considered himself rather artful with his crude butchery but he saw no need to argue the fine point with Thal’s weird new companion.

  “I assume you know that if you do wrong by Thal, he’ll rip you apart and feed you to dogs,” Valentino said.

  “I have no ill intentions toward him,” Mileko said. He got on his horse to signal his impatience.

  Valentino returned to camp. Thal had Altea on her feet and she looked pleased with the accomplishment. A fresh set of clothing had done much to renew her appearance. Valentino suggested that Thal get her into the cart, so she could use it to get on his horse. After Thal got her up on the cart, he hung back while Valentino brought his horse alongside.