by Tracy Falbe
She joined Ansel in the hall. Mitri, Harvath, and Johan were already far down the hall occupied by their own conversation.
They took their meals in a small room adjoining the kitchen. When they entered, a woman was pouring their beer. Bread loaves and two steaming platters of mutton stew lorded over the empty plates that had been set out.
Everyone settled in, and Mitri reached first for the bread.
“Let us pray,” Johan interjected.
Grudgingly, Mitri set down his hunk of dark bread and folded his hands.
“Why insist when you say your faith is lost?” his friend Harvath groused.
“I’ve truly learned to be grateful for food,” Johan said.
“Then pray to Sarputeen. He’s the one feeding us,” Harvath said.
“He’s no god and asks for no prayers,” Johan said.
“Are you going to say grace or argue?” Mitri grumbled.
Johan glanced at Ansel and Lenki, who awaited his prayer with impatient courtesy. He hurried through a short grace, and Mitri dug into his supper while the others filled their plates with less urgency.
Lenki focused on her food. Lifelong habit prevented her from making conversation in the company of men. She enjoyed the mutton and the carrots and parsnips soaked in gravy.
Leaning back from a well mopped plate, Harvath said, “The moon will be full soon. We’ll be changed then.”
“How can you be so sure?” Johan asked because they had not been informed of anything.
“When else would it be? Did your books teach you nothing of werewolves?” Harvath teased.
“Other subjects held my interest,” his friend mumbled.
Mitri joined the conversation. “I wonder what it’ll feel like to be like them,” he said quietly.
Everyone contemplated the notion that occupied their thoughts day and night. They had observed Thal and Sarputeen in their wolf form in the courtyard three nights ago. Sarputeen in his resplendent white coat had been the essence of deadly winter, and Thal, with his darker coat, had looked like iron against the snow.
“Master Thal had a limp,” Ansel noted.
“The man they brought back must be important,” Johan said.
“The servants told me his name’s Mileko,” Mitri said and took another bread loaf.
“Is he another volunteer?” Ansel said.
Mitri shook his head. “The castle folk knew him well. He’s served here for years. They said he was much hurt.”
“How badly?” Johan asked.
Mitri shrugged and chewed his bread.
“Thal’s enemies must be moving against us,” Ansel surmised.
“Then surely we’ll be changed soon,” Harvath said.
“Thal will tell us when we need to know,” Johan said.
“Maybe it’s best we know the least,” Mitri offered.
“It could be painful what’s planned for us,” Ansel realized apprehensively.
Questions unspoken churned in Lenki’s mind as well. No one in the room knew any more than she. The wounded man, however, might be a font of knowledge.
She claimed the platter that had a single loaf remaining on it and excused herself. Ansel caught her eye, but she offered no explanation before ducking out.
She slipped into the kitchen. A cook was banking a fire after tidying up for the evening. Lenki asked where she would find Mileko’s quarters. After a strange look, the cook provided the information.
Lenki took a candle and headed into the tower. The old stone staircase cut up the center of the building. A sconce at every landing broke up the blackness at intervals. She mounted the smooth steps, and the puny light from her candle lurched across the stairs at harsh angles, uncertain which way to go.
She realized that Thal occupied some chamber above. The thought of him thrust the impending consequences of her choice fully into the forefront of her mind. She had seen him as the beast, but now in the privacy of the deserted stairwell she allowed herself to fully imagine him biting her. She had seen his heavy jaws and now felt her skin prickle with fear at the thought of his teeth penetrating her flesh.
This man called Mileko might have answers. She wanted most to speak with Thal, but she doubted that she should approach him directly. She had taken note of how vigilantly his wife’s eyes marked her.
When she reached Mileko’s door, she knocked gently.
“Enter.”
She came in. The room was large. Old tapestries covered the walls. Candlelight warmed the golden thread that highlighted woodland scenes overflowing with fanciful animals and flirtatious men and women.
On the far side of the room, a man lay on a bed, but he sat up against the thick headboard as she came forward. Cracks coursed through the ancient wood behind his head. A heavy fur-lined robe wrapped his body, and the elegant features of his pale face bore scabs and bruises.
Mileko meant to demand who she was, but speech withered on his tongue as he beheld the dark-haired woman who had revealed herself as unexpectedly as if the Hind had crossed his path.
“I’m Lenki,” she said.
He remained speechless. Strange young women simply did not stroll the corridors of Vlkbohveza.
“Are you Mileko?” she asked and came closer with the bread. “Would you like some food?”
Finding his manners, he nodded and pointed to a chair by his bed. “Please sit,” he said.
Once she sat down, his proximity enveloped her with an energy unlike any that she had ever experienced. The strangely calming sensation lulled her with an appealing forgetfulness.
Her distracted silence gave Mileko a chance to attempt conversation. “How did you get here?” he said.
“I’m with the volunteers.”
“I did not know one was a woman.”
“I am.”
Mileko looked away as if suddenly shy. His natural ability to take control of any encounter faltered.
“I heard you were badly hurt,” she said.
“I took a bad beating and I was shot,” he said and touched his shoulder.
“With a gun?” she said, quite impressed.
“Yes,” he said, noticing her marvelous eyes when they went wide.
“I thought those always killed,” she said.
“Not always,” he said as he took in more details about her. He recognized her old dress as homespun from the village. This girl apparently had no possessions.
“Are you getting better?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s good to be home,” Mileko said and relaxed a little. He thanked her for the bread and took a bite.
“This is your home then?” she said.
“More than any I’ve ever had,” he said.
“Are you a werewolf?” she blurted.
The question surprised him. “No, just a man although I do possess a few talents,” he said modestly.
“What are they?”
“They’re difficult to explain. Have you come here to interrogate me?” he said.
She shook her head and apologized. “I hoped that you could tell me what it would be like for me. Thal shall make me a wolf. He’s shown us. We’ve seen him and Sarputeen change,” she explained.
“I cannot tell you what the experience will be like,” he said although he was looking at her very closely now as if trying to grasp how she could so blithely speak of such a thing. He had sought Sarputeen for knowledge but never desired alteration.
“Will Thal bite me to do it?” she said.
“Yes. That I do know.”
“How do you serve Sarputeen?” she wondered.
“I came here to learn from him. He’s mentored me in arts that have always been rare, even in the old days,” Mileko explained. “How did you get here?”
“I…” She did not wish to tell him and looked away when no worthy lie came to mind. Mileko observed how her fingers clawed her palms as she remembered some deed that she declined to disclose.
Her short hair marked her as a criminal, but he chose not to press the issue.
He had no doubt that he would learn her truth eventually, and he had no desire to upset her. He wished actually to please her, which startled him because the fond opinions of a woman had never been his goal before.
Dodging his question, she said, “Did you battle our enemies?”
“Do you count them as your own already?” he said.
“Yes, if I am to serve, it is what I must do,” she said with a resignation forged in a sinner’s Hellfire.
“You should not be so quick to do so,” he muttered. He brushed his loose hair away from his face and reacquainted himself with the aches and pains in his body as he shifted position.
“You think I should not do this thing?” she asked.
“I didn’t say that,” he quickly corrected, worried that he might have undermined his Master’s plans with a hasty word of caution.
“Why have you not done it?” Lenki asked because it stood to reason that the student of a werewolf would seek the same power.
“It is not my wish,” Mileko said. “Lenki, I do not know what has been offered you or how you got here. You seem to have reasons to take this course.”
“I do,” she murmured. “But I had not thought about who my enemies would be. Did you narrowly escape them?”
“So it would seem,” he said and gestured to his bandaged shoulder and sling. “I see now why Lord Sarputeen seeks recruits.”
“Are the enemies numerous?” she asked.
“As far as I have discerned there are only two that will concern us,” he said. The answer brightened her mood, but before she could comment on the quality of the odds, he added, “But they are most perilous.”
“And you faced them alone,” she commented.
“It was a mistake,” he said despite being pleased that she seemed impressed with him.
So rarely did an intrusion upon his solitude improve his mood that he did not know how to interpret the sensation.
Another knock on the door dissolved the moment.
“My counsel seems to be much needed today,” he attempted to quip and called out for the new arrival to enter.
Thal came in. Lenki tensed in her chair, as if caught shirking her duty. She popped to her feet. Mileko noticed that her presence caused Thal discomfort as well. After his initial look at her, he avoided eye contact.
“Excuse me for interrupting,” he said, coming farther into the room.
“I was just introducing myself,” Lenki explained.
“I wish to speak with Mileko alone,” Thal said.
“Of course,” Lenki said. She stared at him for a heartbeat longer before heading out the door. Thal’s eyes followed her as she left the room.
“I thought it was Altea in here,” he said, sitting in the chair still warm from her presence.
“Altea was here earlier, but your father asked her to assist him,” Mileko explained.
“It looks that she’s been taking good care of you,” Thal said.
“You too,” Mileko commented, looking toward Thal’s bandaged leg. He wore only a robe that went to his knees and had his precious fur tossed over a shoulder. He settled the tail across his lap.
“Father has bade me to stay in bed, but I needed to talk to you. Have you spoken to him about what you’ve seen at Tekax’s castle?” Thal said.
“I tried, but he said we would speak of it later. He wanted to focus on my healing. He chanted over me most of yesterday and now has gone off to work on something else,” Mileko said.
“He’s brewing a potion that I will take before making my pack,” Thal divulged. That his father was spending days on the potion truly intimidated him.
“Lenki wanted to know if I was a werewolf. She wanted to know what it would be like,” Mileko said.
“Such questions are most natural,” Thal murmured.
“What shall you do with this pack?” Mileko asked.
“The pack will strengthen us when we move against Tekax. But how can that be done? You tell me this Tekax has a castle with high walls. His men have guns and who knows what magic could be cast upon us. I am not educated in war, but I cannot fathom a way that werewolves will make any difference against high walls and gunpowder. Such things are the bane of wild things,” Thal lamented.
Mileko felt grudgingly honored that Thal would share his doubts with him, and Mileko agreed with his concerns. Although remote and old, the castle of their enemy appeared as impregnable as a foul-tempered crone.
“Thal, I’ve studied with your father for twelve years. I know him to be wise. I have faith that he’ll offer some strategy that will give us an advantage,” Mileko said.
“I have faith in our courage,” Thal said.
“He may know some way to draw Tekax out from his fortress,” Mileko suggested.
That idea appealed to Thal. “If he knew I was within his reach, I think he would send the fext after me again. We know he desires my death,” Thal said.
“He’s not the only one,” Mileko reminded. “Your hefty bounty remains on offer from the Empire.”
Enemies other than the fext and Tekax troubled Thal little. They were mere brambles to tread upon during a great chase.
Mileko said, “Lord Sarputeen will reveal his plans when the time comes.”
Thal wished he shared in Mileko’s certainty, but he was beginning to believe that he would have to develop a strategy. He considered that he would have to have faith in himself as much as those around him. He reviewed the situation. His emergence from the forest had prompted Tekax to lash out after leaving his rivalry with Sarputeen dormant for many years, and Thal reasoned that his existence had somehow tipped the scales in favor of Sarputeen against Tekax.
With much to contemplate, Thal said, “I’m glad to see you mending. We’ll continue this talk when Father is ready.”
“I shall reflect on my experience with Tekax to see if I can recall anything that could be a weakness we may exploit,” Mileko said.
Thal nodded absently and got up. He shifted the chair neatly against the wall and told Mileko goodnight.
His thoughts wrapped him tightly when he emerged into the hall, but his keen senses soon alerted him to the presence of another. Lenki awaited him on the landing. The sconce cast warm light on her face, making her look like a precious pearl floating in a dark abyss.
Thal came closer. More than once he had driven her from his thoughts, but each time he saw her it was like the first time.
“You have something to ask of me?” he said.
“I want to know what it will be like,” she said.
“I’ll bite you. I imagine that it will hurt. There is no way to be gentle with such a thing,” he said. Delight tickled him inside as he imagined that moment of joining.
“Does it hurt to become the beast?” she asked.
He nodded. “But you will forget it as soon as it is done.”
“Will I be powerful?”
“Very much,” he said and noticed that he had whispered. He cleared his throat and added, “You wish to be powerful because of what happened to you?”
She blinked as if not quite allowing herself to recall her murderous deed. “I’m curious what it feels like to be powerful,” she said.
“Did you feel powerful when you killed that man?” Thal asked.
“No,” she began but saw in his eyes that he rejected the lie. “I think so,” she admitted.
“Prepare yourself to kill again in my service,” he said, wishing to act as a stern leader and nothing more.
“Will you make me kill innocents?” she dared to inquire.
Those who had died beneath his jaws leaped through his mind all at once in a whirlwind of shrieking death. “I don’t believe that any I’ve killed were undeserving,” he said. “Follow my lead and your deeds will not taint your soul.”
He moved past her onto the next flight of stairs but paused only one step up. He looked back, thinking he should say something more.
“Thal?”
Altea’s voice from farther up the tower st
artled him. He wondered what she had seen.
There’s no shame in my actions, he thought. “I must go,” he said tersely and hurried away.
Chapter 16. The Drinking of the Potion
Thal stood in the open window with his fur across his chest. The late fall snows had given way to clear weather. Rosy sunlight highlighted the mountains, and the snow melted back from the trees. In his palm, he admired the light glittering on a moonstone ring. The smooth gem beckoned his attention. He wondered who had crafted the ring, but he thought most about the man whose dead finger he had taken it from. He had counted Rotfeng as an enemy but had desired for their relationship to be otherwise. Thal had tried to impose his will upon the dangerous werewolf but had been denied the chance to know if his influence would have converted the werewolf to an ally.
The sun sank behind a peak, and the colors in the moonstone faded.
Altea came alongside him. “Are you intending to wear that?” she asked.
“No,” he said quickly and closed his hand over the ring. “I was thinking about what is to be done tonight.”
“It’s not too late if you wish to change your mind,” she said.
Thal put an arm around her shoulders. “That is your desire is it not?”
Altea knew better than to attempt to lie to him when her turmoil was so close to the surface. “I’m afraid of what is to come,” she admitted.
“I share in this fear,” he said. “But a pack will strengthen our position. In the battles to come, I must have allies. My decision is made.”
His final statement struck Altea hard.
To reassure her, he said, “You make me wish I were only a man.” He kissed her. The soft press of his lips and the firm power of his body dissolved her concerns for a moment, but she did not believe him. His animal self mattered to him. He would never be a domesticated man. His heart would always be wild.
“You wish no such thing,” she scolded.
“You matter most to me,” he said.
Although kindly spoken, the words sounded like he was reminding himself instead of declaring his devotion with certainty.
But certainty gripped her heart with sudden force. Thal had said his decision was made, and now she made one for herself.
