Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (18 page)

“I think there’s trouble for me here,” Thal
said, uncertain how to precisely explain.

“Oh, Thal, don’t worry. This sleepy town is
only a threat to chickens and kegs of beer,” Regis said.

Thal cast about the stable until he spotted a
ladder. He grabbed it and told the men to pick up their things.

“What are you doing?” Regis said, beginning
to take his bodyguard’s alarm seriously.

“We can get over the wall with this so they
won’t see us at the gate,” Thal explained.

Regis grabbed his arm. “You must tell me what
happened,” he said with sincere concern.

“A group of Jesuits and sellswords entered
the village after dark. They tried to recruit me but I refused. I
think I offended their leader. Please, let us go,” Thal said.

“Don’t overreact over a few monks. I got the
tavern keeper to promise us breakfast,” Regis said.

“I’m going,” Thal said.

Not wishing to lose his strong man, Regis
argued, “We can’t just run off into the night. Who knows what’s
prowling the roads.”

“That’s what I’m for isn’t it?” Thal rejoined
with a glint in his eye.

“But…” Regis said helplessly.

Thal did not want to waste anymore time on
discussion. He had mentioned that he was traveling with musicians
and he regretted his candor. Even if he slipped away, Vito might
look for his companions. He could not leave them behind.

“You could be in danger too. Please hurry,”
Thal said.

The three men muttered to each other, but
they had come to trust Thal. If he said there was danger, then they
would have to give up the meager roof and the promise of breakfast.
Their experience in Budweis came easily to mind, and the freedom of
the road was not to be discounted.

“Oh, I suppose this place smells like how do
you say…donkey balls,” Regis muttered.

“You’d know,” Carlo snickered and put on his
backpack.

They crept through the sleeping village with
the ladder until they reached the wall. Carlo went up first and
crouched along the top as Raphael and Regis came up. The men waited
while Thal climbed with Pistol under his arm. Once they were all at
the top they lifted the ladder to the other side and descended.

“Come along,” Thal said and led them
unerringly into the darkness.

Brother Vito rubbed his temples and took deep
slow breaths. The little ritual cleared his mind at the end of the
day. He sat back in the hard wooden chair and opened his eyes. The
local priest was still there, staring at him expectantly.

“No need to stay up on my account,” Vito
said.

The priest took the hint.

“If you need anything, just ring,” the priest
said, not unhappy to go back to bed.

“All I need is for the Lord to provide me a
good night’s sleep,” Vito said.

“I’ll say a prayer for you,” the priest said
and left the room. He looked back as he shut the door.

Vito let him walk away before he said, “I’ll
be glad to get up to Prague soon. It’s been a long trip.”

“Yes, Brother,” said the secretary. He did
not look up from the leather bound tome he was examining.

“The recruiting is still not going well,”
Vito griped.

“Yes, Brother.”

“Are you listening to me, Miguel?” Vito
demanded.

Brother Miguel jerked his nose out of the
book. “Once we get settled in Prague, we’ll do better. You’ll see.
We need a chance to teach a while and spread the word about what is
needed,” he said.

“Yes, you’re right,” Vito said.

“God will provide,” Miguel murmured and
resumed reading.

“You must have that book memorized by now,”
Vito said. The whole trip Miguel had been studying the latest
manual on ferreting out heretics.

“It’s fascinating. With so many heretics in
recent years many new details have come to light. This book offers
guidance on persecution,” Miguel explained.

“Good. Let’s hope we can adapt its system to
securing Bohemia. This kingdom has long been a confused child of
Mother Church,” Vito said.

“True, but the scenery is lovely. I’ve been
enjoying the journey,” Miguel said.

Vito shifted in his chair. He was sore from
riding all day.

Miguel continued, “I suppose the weather must
be bad here sometimes. After a bad storm is a good time to make
accusations against our enemies, or so it says here.”

“That makes sense,” Vito agreed. He got up
and moved an extra candlestick closer to Miguel so he had more
light to read by. “I appreciate how carefully you’ve been preparing
for our mission. I’ll be turning in now,” he said.

Glowing from the rare compliment, Miguel
wished his leader good night. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and
went back to his reading.

When Vito opened the door, one of his monks
was standing in the hallway and about to knock on it.

“Brother Vito, you are needed. Rainer says he
must speak with you,” the man announced.

“Not tonight,” Vito said.

“Please, Brother Vito. I fear he might be on
the verge of one of his fits. He’s very agitated and you know
you’re the only one who can console his ill humor,” the monk
reminded.

“Very well,” Vito said and followed the
brother into a wing of guest rooms. Monks were bedded down on the
floor, but Rainer was pacing among his prone brothers. He rushed to
Vito when he came in. He clapped his hands together to restrain
himself from seizing his superior.

“Leave us,” Vito snapped.

A few groans were stifled as the monks got
off the floor and filed into the hall. Vito shut the door.

“The moon is dark. Let yourself rest,” Vito
said wearily.

“It’s not that,” Rainer hissed. His blue eyes
were wide. “That man tonight. The one you were trying to recruit.
He’s like me.”

The words hit Vito like a gust of wind. His
mind lit up with comprehension. “My God! No wonder I wanted him so.
Are you sure?” Vito said.

Rainer nodded vigorously.

“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.