Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (25 page)

When the dogs tried to follow him he turned
them back. They whined and slunk away slowly. He even bade Pistol
to stay with his two new companions. Reluctantly the little dog sat
down at the end of the bridge. Thal ran across the meadow toward
the craggy hills overlooking the vale.

He jogged into the woods. Its shady aroma was
comforting. A sliver of moon peeked through the tree branches.

With his sensitive nose he studied the web of
life radiating from the castle. Fungus and little animals and
secret little flowers and baby birds in their nests and a prowling
cat paraded across his senses. Weaving through the trees, he hiked
fast up an incline and down a gully and then up a higher hill until
he was deep in the wild reserve that was the playground of
Patercek. After crossing a stream, Thal caught scent of what he
sought. The stinky dung of wild hogs was scattered nearby and he
soon found their fresh tracks.

When he heard their rooting and happy
chomping, he slowed. Creeping silently through the woodland he came
upon them from upwind. A dozen of them were spread out along a huge
rotting log. They snuffled apart decomposed wood and gobbled
mushrooms and grubs.

Enclosed by a darkness he did not fear, Thal
toyed with the idea of transforming. A chance to experience his
werewolf state while unmolested would likely give him greater
insight into his power.

He took off his hat and hung it on a branch.
Then he removed his cloak but as he pulled off his shirt his wound
stung. He paused. When his body expanded and shifted shape, he
supposed that the strain would tear loose the stitches.

Disappointed, he let his shirt fall back into
place. He really needed the wound to mend. Experimenting with his
power would have to wait.

Retuning to his main task, Thal trailed the
hogs and took note of where they went to bed down before dawn.

A splendid bird-chirping morning heralded his
return to the castle. Pink and gold bouquets of fluffy clouds
blazed around the rising sun, and the greens of the blooming spring
soaked up the power of their heavenly benefactor.

Pistol jumped in circles around his feet
while he crossed the bridge. Brutus and Lucky barked to him from
their kennel where they were put every morning.

The courtyard was empty and Thal headed for a
side entrance that led to the kitchen. Inside servants were loading
bread loaves into an oven and churning butter. He filled a cup from
the barrel of drinking water and slaked his thirst. He was taking a
second cup when Francesca entered.

“Thal,” she whispered and sidled up to him.
“Where have you been?”

He wiped the water off of his lips. “Who was
looking for me?” he asked back.

She looked down. “You weren’t in your room
last night,” she whispered.

Her nocturnal interest in his whereabouts
excited him a little, but he tried to ignore it. He suspected she
would not really want him if she knew what he was.

“Where were you?” she repeated.

Thal said, “I was scouting the woods for the
hunt.”

“Oh, that’s sensible,” she said. “Let me get
you some breakfast.”

“I think it best to stay hungry,” he
said.

“Why? It could be a long day,” she said. A
woman did not like to be put off from fetching food for a man she
liked.

“Motivation,” he explained.

His sensitive ears picked up the clopping of
horse hooves in the courtyard, and he assumed Patercek would be out
soon.

“Have a nice morning,” he said and started
off.

“Good luck,” Francesca said, disappointed
that he was leaving so quickly.

In the courtyard Markus and Orsh and a half
dozen young men were assembling. They carried spears and bows and
Markus had two muskets. Two horses, one black and one brown, were
saddled. Their wide hooves danced with anticipation. The dogs
woofed insistently to be let out of their kennel.

Patercek burst out of his castle, filled with
exuberance. His glossy dark boots contrasted with the beige leather
breeches he wore. A green half cloak encircled his big torso and
silver pendants glittered on his shoulders. A green hat shaded his
eyes. Its plume of multi-colored feathers seemed more suited to a
costume ball.

He greeted his servants warmly. Orsh held his
horse while he swung up into the saddle. His favorite steed pranced
as his master took up the reins.

“Come, Thal. The other horse is for you,” he
commanded.

Trying to hide his uncertainty Thal
approached the brown horse. The animal swung its head toward him.
The big delicate nostrils snorted, and it backed away.

Inviting the trust of a herd animal seemed
beyond Thal’s capacity. The horse dragged the lad holding its
reins. Then the animal neighed in alarm and pulled loose.
Patercek’s horse balked a little.

“Easy,” Patercek said in a soothing yet
strong voice.

The other horse stopped near the stable door
and looked at Thal warily.

When the servant ran to catch the horse, Thal
said, “No need for me to ride.”

“Nonsense,” Patercek said. “Surely you’re a
man who can ride.”

“I’ll run with the dogs. You’ll see, my Lord.
It’ll be for the best,” Thal said.

“Very well,” Patercek granted.

Thal said, “Does my Lord desire to kill a
boar today?”

“Saints yes! But that old bully out there is
as hard to find as a unicorn,” Patercek said.

“I know where he is,” Thal said.

Astonished by the confidence, Patercek hoped
that his guest’s cockiness was justified.

“I would appreciate the return of my knives,”
Thal said.

“Of course,” Patercek said. With a glance to
Markus he conveyed the request, and Markus had a boy fetch the
blades.

When Thal got back his knives he slipped them
into his boots. He did not intend to face a boar without tusks of
his own.

Brutus and Lucky were jumping against the
bars of their kennel. Thal let them out himself. Bursting forth,
Brutus and Lucky led the hunters out the gate. The dogs soon picked
up the trail where Thal had come and gone across the meadow. They
snuffled back and forth along it waiting for the men to catch
up.

“Let us take the north trail,” Patercek
advised.

“I recommend we bear straight west,” Thal
said.

“It’s so refreshing to be contradicted,”
Patercek noted sarcastically.

“If we go north the wind will betray us,”
Thal said.

Placated somewhat by Thal’s reason, Patercek
said, “I suppose on the hunt the huntsman is the lord.”

“Excuse me,” Thal said, not really listening,
and rushed ahead.

He diverted the dogs from a game trail of
little value and kept them on the course he had figured for
catching the hogs in their hiding place.

About halfway around the second hill,
Patercek caught up to Thal. “The going is too rough this way,” the
lord complained.

Only a faint trail scratched at the jutting
stones, boggy patches, and thick woodland. Thal checked the wind
again and insisted they continue. When Patercek frowned, he added,
“We can carry the boar back by the easy trail.”

He disappeared into the foliage that had
overgrown the trail. A few seconds later he looked down from higher
ground and beckoned the hunters. A few men groaned.

After tramping through a horde of biting
flies, the hunters emerged into more open woodland with the wind in
their faces. Brutus and Lucky howled at the same time and dashed
down a slope. The abrupt excitement of their baying erased the
hardship of the hike and everyone ran to catch up with the dogs.
Thal hollered to the young man carrying his musket to keep up. In
the lead, he raced through feathery ferns. Their bent fronds
flapped with his passing. He jumped off a little ledge, skidded
down a slope, and started running again. The great dogs were
bashing through the brush at the bottom of the hill. Branches and
leaves shook and large and small squealing bodies fled in every
direction.

Thal burst onto the scene as the dogs were
running amok among the wild swine. The boar and two sows were
standing their ground. The mighty tusks of the boar lashed out like
chaotic saw blades. The dogs jumped back. A sow plowed into Brutus
and the heavy dog went flying. Lucky snapped at the portly female
but the crafty animal dodged the dangerous jaws.

Thal pulled out his knives and charged the
boar. With his focus so confidently on a target, the dogs joined
him. Despite landing hard Brutus rolled up fighting and jumped on
the back of the wild boar. His fangs sank into its thick neck, and
the dog tried to unbalance the boar by dragging on it with his
weight. Lucky dashed in and got a back leg. The boar kicked wildly
but not even its significant strength could shake loose the bear
trap jaws.

Thal jumped close and slashed the boar on the
cheek. Even with two dogs restraining it, the boar lunged at Thal
with a mighty effort. He danced back from sturdy tusks that could
tear open his gut. His wolf sense told him that this mighty boar
was a ridiculous target, but Thal was a man now, and the thrill of
the great battle was intoxicating. The nasty screaming of the boar
raised the intensity of the confrontation. Thal could smell the
blood dripping from its wounded face. His hunger lashed him to a
final effort. With both knives he jumped close to the boar again
and thrust the blades into its ribs.

The other hunters streamed down the hill,
beating back branches and trying to see what was going on. Patercek
had to abandon his mount. Markus hustled behind him with the new
musket.

The young man toting Thal’s musket caught up.
His eyes were wide as he entered the noisy battle. Thal pushed his
bloody knives back into his boots, and hollered for the musket. The
young man tossed it to him and Thal caught it by the stock. The
jarring force of the throw set off the gun. It fired and the ball
burst into the leafy ground beside a struggling dog.

Appalled by the error, Thal jumped back from
the murderous boar, clutching the gun like a club.

Patercek ran up. His hat flew off. Markus
handed him his favorite musket and he aimed. Despite the blood
streaming from multiple wounds, the boar still battled with
unflagging ferocity. The dogs held on fearlessly, flopping in every
direction as the boar spun and kicked.

“God damn it, I’ll hit my dogs!” Patercek
yelled and lowered his musket. “A spear!”

A servant dashed to his side and gave him a
spear. Armed anew, Patercek waded in toward the boar. With a
supreme effort the huge boar shook off one dog and lunged toward
Patercek. Thal cracked it across the skull with his musket. The
beast turned aside and Patercek seized his chance. He stepped
forward and thrust his spear into the animal just behind its left
shoulder. The deep wound finally made it drop.

Pistol yipped triumphantly from the periphery
while the big dogs tugged and shook the dying boar. Gasping for
air, Patercek put his hands on his hips. He laughed and everyone
else cheered except for Thal who stared at the dogs with their
teeth clamped into coarse hide. He was hot from primitive pleasure
rushing through his thudding blood. This hunt had been dangerous
and the thrill of success was ecstatic.

“What a hunt!” Patercek cried and slapped his
new huntsman on the back.

Thal wheeled on him, having nearly forgotten
that men even existed. Patercek stepped back, startled by the
sparkling intensity in Thal’s eyes.

Shaking his head, Thal forced back the
pulsing joy of the kill that made him want to feast on raw flesh
while others waited their due.

“Excellent kill,” he praised quietly.

“Just a formality. That blow to his head took
the fight out of him I believe,” Patercek said.

Thal looked at the musket in his hand. He had
cracked the wood loose from the metal barrel. “I’m so sorry,” he
said.

Patercek was mostly impressed by the evidence
of Thal’s strength. “No matter. Now I can justify buying a new
one,” he said and pulled Thal close for a hug. “Now let’s get this
beast back to the kitchen. We’ll have a fine story to tell my
guests won’t we?”

Patercek let him go and kneeled beside the
boar. Its bulky body promised to provide a fine feast. He ran a
gloved hand across its hairy back and then pulled out his bloody
spear. He dabbed his fingers on the blood and then smeared some on
Thal’s forehead.

The energy of the brother beast tingled
against Thal’s skin. His cares and concerns slipped away for an
instant and he was at peace.

“How did you know where to find the boar?”
Patercek asked.

“I told my Lord I was skilled hunter,” Thal
reminded.

“But honestly, tell me your method. I’ve been
living with this crazy beast and couldn’t sneak up on him,”
Patercek said.

“If I gave up my secrets there would not be
much call for my help,” Thal said.

“Oh please,” Patercek pestered boyishly.

Thal rubbed his wound while thinking of a
response. Finally he divulged, “Just follow the werewolf
tracks.”

Patercek was nonplussed until he decided to
laugh at the joke.

Augustus Patercek hesitated before signing
his name. He moved his hand aside so the quill would not drip on
the paper while he paused to think.

On his smooth dark desk already sat the three
letters he had written for Carlo, Regis, and Raphael. His coat of
arms was neatly pressed into the wax.

He had not intended to write a letter for
Thal. Although he had developed a genuine fondness for him,
Patercek had also glimpsed deep cold danger beneath the thin ice at
Thal’s surface. Should he really send his sister a letter of
introduction for a man who freely admitted to killing six men?
Since the boar hunt, Patercek had stopped assuming that Thal was
boasting about his victory over the bandits. The man had an
uncommon ferocity. It was almost casual.