Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  “Lean across the saddle and I’ll help you get a leg over,” he instructed softly. He knew his good horse would keep still for her. He grabbed her hips and boosted her on the horse. She swayed and clung pitifully to the edge of the saddle with her elbows and thighs. Valentino got on behind her.

  “Lean against me,” he said and she did.

  He put an arm around her for support. She gasped and moaned but did not complain.

  “Ready?” he said.

  “Yes.” Her reply was a tiny gasp.

  Valentino started riding. Altea shifted a few times until she found the least painful position, but he could tell that every swing of the horse’s frame wrenched on her.

  Mileko and Thal followed. It was almost dark by the time they came out on a road. Valentino led them north of Prague on increasingly narrow paths. The nearly full moon illuminated their travel and even when they entered a dark woods they could still see the path.

  A light up ahead revealed their destination. Thal’s friends had put a candle in the window expecting his nocturnal arrival. Regis, Raphael, and Carlo spilled out into the night and greeted Thal happily. But they had to subdue themselves upon seeing Altea. She groaned as Valentino got her off his horse and then Thal carried her inside. A little bed made of split logs with a mattress stuffed with leaves received her. She was grateful to have it.

  Thal stroked her hair. “Rest,” he whispered. She shut her eyes and he went outside. Pistol gave the cabin a thorough inspection and then jumped in the bed to curl up at Altea’s feet. He licked her bare foot.

  Thal’s friends plied him with many questions. He explained that he was going to see his father once Altea was well.

  “We’ll travel with you. Just like old times,” Regis said.

  “It shan’t be Paris,” Thal warned.

  “But there will be new songs,” Regis said.

  “Then let that suffice,” Thal said.

  “It’s all we’ve ever had,” Regis said. “And thank Heaven but it’s good to see you again and have no more talk of goodbyes. We get attacked if you’re not with us.”

  Raphael and Carlo agreed laughingly and Thal considered that he must not live always as if driven from the pack.

  Valentino took Thal aside. “I must bid you farewell,” he said.

  “Stay till morning. You’re tired,” Thal said.

  “Breakfast will be better in Prague,” Valentino said.

  Thal put out his hand and Valentino took it. “I must go to my father. Mileko says he has a castle in the Tatras Mountains,” he said.

  “Sounds promising,” Valentino said.

  “I shall see,” Thal said warily. “I’m in your debt for what you’ve done today.”

  “I’ve learned that you’re a man who pays his debts,” Valentino said.

  “I am, and that’s why I wanted you to know where I’m going. My father’s name is Sarputeen. If you should have need of me, send word, my friend. I will come. You have my promise,” Thal said and set his other hand upon their joined hands. Valentino did the same.

  “Until then may I suggest you work on your planning skills. Wolves do a poor job of taking bullets into account,” Valentino said and tapped the bullet in Thal’s armor.

  “I will.”

  “If I start a war I can’t finish, I’ll send for you,” Valentino said.

  “If that is what you need,” Thal said.

  Valentino knew it was not an easy commitment for Thal to make. Despite all the bodies that had bloodied the streets of Prague, it had not been done for Thal’s pleasure or profit.

  Valentino handed him a bag with some extra powder and shot. He rode off alone into the night, but Thal was not worried about him.

  Everyone was exhausted. Thal slid into the bed with Altea and the others fell asleep on the floor. Their presence made him feel very content as he fell asleep.

  Chapter 49. The Joyous Place

  Altea’s days at the cabin were a blur of pain and fitful sleep. Thal stayed at her side. When nightmares inevitably came, he whispered soothing words into her ear and his strong hands kept her from thrashing in half awake distress.

  Her mind needed to recuperate as much as her body, and Thal made her stay in bed except when she needed to relieve herself. He washed her and fed her and changed her bandages as necessary. Carlo helped him change the dressing on the thumbs because he had a light touch and could stomach the task. When Altea peeked at the ragged skin and muscle, vivid images from her torture made her shake and cry.

  One hot afternoon the leaves throughout the forest hung silent and a boom of thunder woke her.

  Thal leaned over her. “A storm comes,” he said. The shadow falling across the little window confirmed his words.

  “The other men are going to move their things inside before it rains,” he said.

  “Why are their things outside?” she wondered.

  Thal explained that after the first night he had made everyone else camp outside so she could have privacy.

  “You don’t need to do that anymore,” she said, not wishing to inconvenience his friends.

  He looked at the whites of her eyes. “You are improving,” he agreed.

  His smile was sweet and relieved, and Altea was glad to see him that way.

  Regis banged through the door with his harp case, followed by his friends. Mileko came in last with firewood that he dumped into the little stone and mud hearth. Lightning cracked hard among the tall trees and everyone jumped. Mileko ran out and came back in with his saddle after tethering his horse to the cabin. Fat drops of rain pelted the forest and the wind stirred rapidly.

  Everyone hunkered inside. The rain poured and the trees swayed frightfully beneath the booming black clouds. The flaws in the roof were soon revealed. Water drizzled down everywhere except onto the bed that had been strategically positioned by a prior occupant.

  Into the soft patter of the passing storm, Mileko said, “Our food is down to the last meal.”

  “I will hunt tonight,” Thal said.

  “As a werewolf?” Mileko asked.

  Thal nodded. At dusk he took off his clothes, leaving only his fur around his hips. He gave one of his pistols to Raphael. “Do you remember how I said to fire it?” he said.

  “Yes,” Raphael said, regarding the pistol with a blend of distaste and awe. The thing was as different from a musical instrument as death was from birth.

  “Take care,” Altea said.

  “Do not worry,” he said, and she was sure he was looking forward to it.

  Adjusting to the company of the other men without Thal was a little more awkward for her, but Regis charmed her into relaxing. He sat on the edge of her bed with his harp. His fingers plucked a little tune.

  “Here you do it,” he said.

  She shrank away. Her hands were useless.

  “Just use one finger,” he coaxed.

  Altea turned from him. The lantern light highlighted the old moss wedged between the logs of the wall.

  Regis said, “Altea, you must use your fingers.” When she still did not respond, he added, “The master who taught me told me of healing from a bad hand injury. It took a long time, but he remained a great harpist. He told me that he had to use his fingers even when he did not want to.”

  She regarded the harp now. Tentatively she reached out and strummed a finger across three strings. The twinkle of sound encouraged her.

  “Good. Now do it with this finger,” he said.

  He helped her sit up and then had her go through all four fingers on each hand. It aggravated her pain, but she began to understand his point about keeping her hands active.

  “We can work on this every day. Time will come when you can do thumbs again too. I’ll teach you to play,” Regis said.

  “I would like that,” she said.

  “How is your singing voice?” he inquired.

  “I don’t know,” she confessed. No one had ever complimented her singing, but she supposed she was not terrible.

&n
bsp; “We’ll do voice lessons too. It’ll help pass time,” Regis said.

  “You flatter me,” she said, appreciative of the foreign singer’s attention.

  “You have to join our group if you’re to travel with us. It’s how we get our supper,” Regis explained.

  Raphael and Carlo concurred.

  “A lady’s voice would be nice,” Raphael added.

  “I’ll try to be worthy of you,” she said, aware of their talent.

  “You can be the pretty one,” Regis said because he wished to make her happy.

  “Don’t believe him,” Raphael joked. “He think he’s prettiest.”

  Regis shook his long hair and played along with joke. Tentatively she smiled, grateful for their friendly humor and because Regis was pretty.

  In the morning she heard Thal and Mileko talking outside. She got out of bed on her own and skirted the sleeping musicians to reach the door.

  Thal had a deer hanging from a tree. It was neatly gutted and the hunting knife in his hand was ready to begin butchering.

  “You’re up,” he said fondly and came to her. His hands were bloody and he only had pants on. She noticed a recent scar on his chest and wondered at the story behind it.

  “Good morning,” she said, shyly admiring the hard curves of his shoulders and his bare stomach.

  “We’ll eat hearty today,” Thal said, proud of his kill. The deer’s coat glistened with health and its antlers were still bound in delicate felt.

  Mileko criticized, “You should’ve taken something smaller. This meat will go bad before we can eat it all or attract a bear, which would be worse.”

  Altea judged that he was jealous.

  Thal started making incisions around the legs as he prepared to remove the hide. “The meat won’t go to waste. You’ll take it to the nearest village and trade for things we need,” Thal said.

  Although Mileko did not admit it, the idea was a good one.

  “Altea needs shoes. That will be your priority,” Thal added, and she glowed with love for his thoughtfulness.

  When he finished the butchering, he went to a stream to wash while his friends cooked a meal. Altea plucked at the harp until she could not bear the aggravation to her thumbs.

  After they ate, Thal invited her for a walk. At first she did not think she could do it, but he insisted that it was time for her to be more active.

  He took her on a gentle route. They went slowly so she would not risk stumbling on a tree root. Altea admired the vital beauty of the woodland. The damp Earth was cool beneath her toes. Green moss caressed her feet with freedom. She had never smelled a place so pure. The urban stone and stink of her native Prague no matter how artfully dressed up could not compare to the majesty of this place where even a falling leaf presented a transitory glimpse of infinite peace.

  This was Thal’s world where his cares did not press down on him so much, and she thought him even more handsome.

  “I wonder what became of my brothers,” she said.

  “They were not at your house when I went there,” Thal said.

  “Martin must have sent them to the country,” she surmised. She drooped with melancholy to think that she would never see them again. Her sadness deepened when she considered that they would not want to see her after what she had become in their eyes.

  “Their lives will go on, and so will yours,” Thal said and put an arm around her. He backed her up against a tree and started kissing her. Altea gave into his advance. The excitement pushed away the pain.

  A blissful carefree state consumed her mind. The surging joy and hot pleasure reduced the cost of her trauma. To be loved felt so good. To have his strong body close made her feel exceptional. His shoulders looming over her seemed as big as the forest and she was drawn to its immensity.

  Inexorably their hips pressed together. An incendiary and insistent desire tugged at her body and demanded that she yield. She knew no hesitation with Thal. She had no fear of his manhood. She wanted him inside her. Altea tore away from his domineering lips and kissed his neck and chest. She took the silver medallion between her teeth and moaned deeply as his hands gripped her hips. She wished she could sink her fingers into his strong back.

  Thal pulled loose the laces on her bodice and tugged open her shirt. She leaned against the tree while he untied the knot in her chest bindings. Her breasts spilled out. She heaved her bosom into his hands because she wanted to give him everything, but she gasped in pain. The medallion slipped from her mouth.

  Thal eased back, realizing only now that he had been pressing against her more than he intended. Altea tried to catch her breath as the pain subsided.

  Very carefully Thal put his hands back on her breasts. She shut her eyes and savored the sensation of her hard nipples against his palms. A noose that killed all restraint swung on a gallows deep inside her pelvis.

  “You’re so soft,” he murmured as his hands studied the landscape of her body, but he could not ignore the dark bruising that had yet to fade from her chest.

  “We must wait,” he said heavily.

  “No!” Altea gasped. “I want you. Just be gentle.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

  “But you can control the beast,” she said.

  “It’s the man I fear,” he said. He turned from her and put his back against the tree too. “I can’t bear the thought of hurting you,” he said.

  She heard the undertow of discomfort in his voice. Resisting consummation tested his will power to the point of pain.

  “You’re right,” she conceded. Already their heavy petting had aggravated her ribs. Her chest throbbed.

  “Just a little while more, my love,” he said.

  ******

  Thal admired Altea while she practiced singing with Regis. They stood in a sunny glen not far from the cabin. Each day renewed her a little more. Although her nightmares persisted, her singing gave Thal hope that she would reclaim a sense of security.

  The deep controlled breathing that Regis was teaching her was good for her recovery as well. She winced sometimes at the strain but it was strengthening her torso. Thal appreciated the kind efforts Regis was making on her behalf. His friend had a point about giving Altea a role in their little company. Thal had been spending his days in thought about how they would travel. He was an extremely wanted criminal and he was not the easiest man to disguise because of his distinctive looks.

  Hiding at the cabin was growing tedious for him. He supposed it was his lusting frustration that made it difficult. He had not taken Altea for a walk since their last encounter. To make sure she got exercise he sent Carlo out with her every day.

  The musicians had their music to indulge in, but they were growing restless too. They were accustomed to an audience, and the lack of drink at the cabin was bemoaned continually as a hardship.

  Thal had taught them to gather wild edibles to keep them busy and fed, but their meat supply was running low. He must hunt again soon. Mileko had been successful trading the first deer at a nearby village. The shoes he had brought back had even been a good fit for Altea.

  Mileko came out of the cabin and stood beside Thal.

  “I think she’s fit enough to travel,” he announced.

  “If you let her ride your horse,” Thal said.

  A nod from Mileko showed his unwillingness to argue about it. “She is lucky. Few come back from torture. She must have confessed quickly,” he commented.

  “I do not ask her about it,” Thal said.

  “Does she have any powers?” Mileko asked.

  I could give her power, Thal thought even as he forbade the idea. “She’s a strong woman,” he said.

  “But she’ll still slow us down,” Mileko said.

  “Have you a reason for haste?” Thal wondered. He had figured that the longer he stayed hidden the safer it would be to emerge back into society.

  “I had not planned on escorting so many,” Mileko said.

  “I cannot leave them. I’ve
brought them danger and must take care of them now,” Thal said, regretting only his mistakes and not future responsibilities.

  He wondered at the discomfort in Mileko. “Will my father not accept my friends?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that, but he may be…surprised,” Mileko said. After putting up his hood, he added, “And annoyed with our delay.”

  “I will take responsibility,” Thal said.

  “Such words should not be spoken lightly in regard to Sarputeen,” Mileko said and walked off into the trees.

  Thal let him go. He knew where Mileko went in the forest. Several times Thal had spied on him. Mileko practiced slight-of-hand tricks, knife throwing, and prolonged meditation.

  When Altea looked over at Thal, his skin heated up at the flash of her smile. To see her sign of happiness helped him forgive himself a little.

  That night he lay in bed next to her and listened for everyone to fall asleep. Her body next to his prodded his physical desire but he was able to keep control as long as they were not alone. He would not treat her like some tavern wench that gets shagged in a hallway.

  He kissed her on the forehead and then slipped out of the bed. He hoped a nightmare would not trouble her while he was away. Outside he undressed. A first quarter moon peeked through the forest canopy. Picking up his magic fur he chanted the spell and transformed. Although the process was painful, once it was done euphoria resulted. Thal gloried in his animal power. His connection to the living world around him was unfiltered and the hunt beckoned.

  “Thal?”

  His wide back paws kicked up leaves when he spun in surprise. Altea had come outside. Her hands were outstretched as she advanced carefully in the darkness. Thal went to her. Her fingers massaged into his fur behind his ears. He rubbed his head on her hip. Her gentle acceptance of him was reassuring. Thal came up onto his back legs and licked her face. She giggled and turned away.

  Dropping back to all fours, he nudged her back to the cabin where Pistol waited in the doorway. She understood that she must stay while he hunted. He looked back once after bounding off among the trees to make sure she went back inside.