by Tracy Falbe
Raphael’s scream broke through to Thal’s humanity, and he was once again a friend of men.
“Come,” he said to Pistol and ran back into the pine grove. He burst through the scratchy boughs. Struggling to make sense of the knots of scuffling and cursing, he tried to figure out where to start. Pistol started barking.
“Get that damn dog!” someone shouted.
Thal slid the knife back into his boot and pulled his gun. He would not be able to save his shot any longer. Picking out the biggest man who had Regis in a headlock, Thal circled behind him.
“Somebody’s here!” cried out the bandit. He whirled with Regis still clamped in his armpit. On fleet feet, Thal danced in a backward arc and avoided a swinging spear. Then he jumped close and raised his pistol. He pulled the trigger and the powder flash illuminated the scene like a tiny speck of lightning. The explosive bark of the pistol rattled everyone’s teeth. Regis screamed and was pitched forward with the falling body. Hot blood and chunks spattered his head.
Thal whirled toward the men still holding Raphael and Carlo. “Let them go!” he demanded.
The bandits yelled the names of their companions, wanting help.
“Those misbegotten wretches won’t be answering,” Thal said. He barreled into the man who had his hands around Raphael’s throat. Thal and the bandit struggled until Thal slammed him against a tree. He killed him with his sword.
When he whirled to find the last intruder, he heard footsteps tearing off into the night. Without hesitation Thal gave chase.
The terrified bandit blundered in the dark. He tripped on a tree root and crashed to the ground. Thal landed on his back. He clubbed the man across the skull with the butt of his pistol and rolled the senseless lout over. He shoved the sword into his chest.
Leaving the sword sticking up out of the body, he clasped his forehead and sat back on the man’s legs. His strong night vision let him discern the unwholesome appearance of the bandit. A matted beard clung in clumps to his face and greasy hair stood up stiffly all over his head. A badly healed gash marked the place where a nose had been.
The thrill of facing danger sped across Thal’s nerves like a waterfall racing over rocks. He felt amazing and powerful, but he shoved away the ecstasy, fearing its appeal. His violence had been motivated by the need to defend his friends, and he called their names and ran back to them.
He reached Regis first. The Venetian was fumbling on his hands and knees trying to locate their fire in the hope of kindling it again for light. Thal helped him to his feet.
“I got them all,” he reported.
“You killed them?” Regis said, a little surprised.
“How many?” Carlo asked as he rushed up.
“Six,” Thal said. “I sense no more.”
Raphael scrambled close and the musicians embraced each other to prove to themselves that they were all still alive. Then they started thanking Thal profusely. Raphael declared that he had only been a moment from death. Rubbing his sore neck, he muttered, “He was going to strangle me for no reason.”
“Nasty horrid brutes,” Regis remarked and kicked one of the bodies. He was still too shocked to realize bloody bits of his attacker were clinging to his hair.
“These are the worst of the worst,” Raphael said. “Lost men, if you can still call them that.”
“Thal!” Regis cried. “Look at you! You’re not a beast at all. See, you’re a man.”
“I know,” Thal said while he absorbed the lesson that he was quite dangerous in his man form as well. He took note of the advantages given by his good weapons and his superior eyesight.
“You don’t turn into a beast,” Regis said, really wanting Thal to accept this truth and not his delusions.
“Don’t I?” Thal said. The drying blood was getting sticky on his hands.
Regis fell silent and reflected that Thal had just single handedly killed six cutthroats. Thal was still thinking about the same thing as he continued to analyze his advantages. The killing had come to him easily, too easily. In the thick of the fight, he had been serenely focused, and each time a chance to kill had arisen, he had seized it without hesitation.
I’ll have to watch my temper, he decided.
“What should we do with these awful bodies?” Raphael asked.
Regis suggested that they drag them out of camp and then go in the morning. No one offered to dig any graves. The effort to honor their would-be murderers would have been absurd.
Thal sat down and touched his shoulder. Blood was seeping inside his shirt again and the pain was worse. He supposed he had torn most of the stitches loose. Pistol licked his cheek and he praised the good dog for his fierce assistance.
Chapter 14. The Castle of Lord Patercek
By morning flies were gathering in the pine grove, and everyone was eager to be off. Thal found his spent lead ball in the dirt and salvaged it. He rolled the sticky hunk of metal in his fingers and contemplated how he had delivered death with it. He felt no remorse about slaying the nasty human refuse that had come to kill in the night. They surely had darker deeds than he upon their souls. He doubted anyone would charge him with murder for this, if the bodies were ever found.
He tugged his cloak across his chest to hide the blood soaking his shirt. Vultures wheeled in the sky behind them as Thal led them straight north. They crossed a clear stream and quenched their thirst. Regis washed his hair, appalled by the cruor stuck to his golden locks.
Plucked berries and greens eased their hunger. Despite the horridness of the men that had assaulted them, the wild area was lovely and lush. The rugged land with its outcroppings of granite made traveling hard work, but the cloudy day kept the air cool.
The musicians were noticeably quiet as they followed Thal mile after mile. Normally the men grumbled good naturedly about slight hardships, but not today. The performance of their bodyguard the night before weighed on their minds. Thal felt their eyes upon his back. Despite his pain and mounting fatigue, he kept his head up and broke a trail. He did not want to fail those who relied on him.
Upon reaching an especially tough-looking incline, Thal paused to study the rocky tree-studded slope so he could judge the best way to ascend. The other men were puffing closer with their loads. Regis reached him first. He scanned the rugged slope with dramatic dislike.
“We must rest,” he declared.
“I want to keep going,” Thal said.
“We’re taking a break,” Regis insisted. He set down his harp case and flopped onto his butt. Carlo and Raphael plodded up and joined their friend on the ground.
Thal frowned at their little rebellion, but taking a break before a tough climb was prudent. He worried mostly about himself. When a wounded animal finally stopped, it did not always get up.
Staying apart from his companions to lessen their chance of seeing his blood, he sat down too. As he expected, his body wanted to collapse, but he rigidly commanded himself to persevere.
Pistol whined quietly and nudged his legs. “I know. Don’t worry,” he whispered.
The break gave him a chance to examine the incline more carefully, and when they resumed their hike, he had a good plan. In a criss-crossing fashion, he made a trail that was not too strenuous. Regis even commented that the going was not as bad as he had imagined, and Thal smiled at the compliment.
When they were almost to the top, Thal looked back. A wondrous view surrounded the little wilderness he had dragged his party into. Rolling hills and forests nurtured the glistening serpent of the distant Vltava.
Gesturing across the green horizon, Thal said, “Was this not worth the walk?”
“Inspirado,” Regis muttered.
Carlo made some joke in his language and the three men chuckled.
Even without their enthusiasm, Thal still appreciated the natural beauty that had made him forget his discomfort for a moment. For a long time his thoughts had existed only on this plane of Earthly contentment.
“Let’s go,” he said.
> The ridge was steepest at the top and they had to grab jutting rocks and roots to haul themselves over the edge. The musicians groaned when they finally crested the ridge because another higher wrinkle in the land confronted them.
“Oh, we are lost. We must go back,” Regis complained.
“We will come out on a road,” Thal said.
“Do you know this land?” Regis challenged.
“We’ll come out on a road. Every step takes us closer to the city. These wilds will not last,” Thal said. He sensed clearly how this patch of Nature despite its ruggedness lacked size. Civilization with mortared stones and plows that cut the Earth chomped on this sanctuary of unbroken life.
“As you say,” Regis muttered.
The afternoon delivered a grueling hike. Thal’s feet began to fall more heavily. His attention was slipping. The trickle of blood remained steady. The icky wetness reached into his waistband, and he disliked how his clothes were getting stained.
Halfway up the slope that seemed to have become a mountain, the men took another break. Thal did not mention the view this time.
Sitting with his back against a tree, he sniffed the air carefully. The wind was coming from the south. He sensed no loathsome lurkers, except for those he had killed. A bear browsed a berry patch but was unlikely to trouble them. His eyes drooped shut.
Pistol licked his fingers to wake him. Raphael dumped sticks on the ground with a woody clatter. The clouds had parted and a distant hill cut into the sinking sun. The tree shadows were long as if yawning at the end of a hard day.
Thal jumped up. “Why did you let me sleep?” he demanded.
Regis was napping against a tree. Rubbing his eyes, he said they had all needed rest. “Let’s camp,” he proposed.
“No, not here. We must keep going,” Thal said.
Tossing in a few Czech words, Raphael protested that he had already gathered firewood. He thought he had been rather practical to get the task done well before dark.
“Come,” Thal said and started up the slope without looking back. He had to get them to a road. Then he could send them on their way, and he could find a place to hide and heal. He needed to recuperate.
Regis, Carlo, and Raphael looked among each other helplessly. No one wished to be stuck in the wilds without Thal watching over them, and they grumpily shouldered their packs and followed.
The top of the hill was heavily forested and they could not see beyond it. At least the land was level again and walking among the towering trees was easy, but the evening gloom was gathering quickly. Thal pressed ahead and eventually emerged onto a ridge overlooking a small vale.
“Come!” he shouted.
The musicians hurried to him and laughed with happy relief. A castle occupied a thick granite ridge across the little vale. A road meandered through the thinning forest. Pastures and fields were dotted with a few cottages.
“I think I can smell food cooking,” Raphael commented excitedly.
“I say we make for that castle,” Regis said. “A fine gentleman with a fancy larder surely needs to hear some good music. I’m tired of rustic inns.”
His colleagues agreed readily.
Regis tossed an arm across Thal’s shoulders. “I’m sorry about my complaining. I should’ve known you’d find us a good place. And it is a fine looking place,” he said.
Thal eased his shoulders away. Regis remembered his wound and apologized.
“This is where we part ways, gentlemen,” Thal announced heavily.
His companions cried out with surprise and forced Thal to explain himself.
“I don’t want to involve you in what troubles may come my way. I’ve enjoyed your company, truly I have, and for my part I think of you as my friends. But that is why you should go from me,” he said.
“No, Thal, we will not leave you. We’re going to Prague together. It was our agreement,” Regis said.
His devotion touched Thal, and he saw that the other two men felt the same way.
“I am a wanted man. Please think of yourselves and be free of me,” Thal insisted even if he hated to speak the words.
“How can we go enjoy a roof over our heads and earn our supper and leave you here?” Regis said. “I won’t do it.”
Carlo and Raphael agreed.
“I don’t want to put you in danger like I did fleeing the Jesuits,” Thal said.
“That’s very thoughtful, but you’ve saved us as well and we still need you. I don’t know what would have happened in Budweis if we had been dragged back to the Mayor. He might have whipped us or broken my fingers. Who knows? But you appeared and made it all go away. You say your power can bring danger. Well I say I want your power on my side,” Regis declared.
Pistol barked.
“Even your little dog thinks you’re daft,” Regis added.
Pistol wagged his tail. The Gypsy dog did not want to miss a chance to go inside a castle.
The deeply familiar caw of a raven high in a tree spoke to Thal. A second raven seeking its evening roost settled on the branch next to the first. It screeched at Thal as if telling him to quit upsetting his friends.
Such birds had long been his dark partners and their wisdom was not to be discounted.
“I’ve warned you,” Thal grumbled in surrender.
Regis laughed, happy that he had won the argument. “Come, Thal. I have a good feeling about this place,” he said.
“You say same thing about Budweis,” Carlo pointed out.
“I have more experience now,” Regis defended. With a fresh spring in his step he started down the slope.
Although concerned about his friends’ blithe dismissal of his warning, Thal did not really want to rest on the cold ground with a half open wound. And the castle artfully placed in the landscape and catching the last rays of the sun on its ramparts excited him.
When they reached the road, a farmer hailed them from across his field. He stopped at the stone fence that hemmed his green barley. Curiosity twinkled in his eyes as he looked the four travel-stained men over.
“Did you fall out of the sky?” he asked.
The musicians waved back and praised the loveliness of the vale. Their accents thwarted the man’s attempt to understand them.
“Good evening, Sir,” Thal said. “Is your lord at the castle friendly to travelers?” he inquired.
The farmer squinted at Thal. His cloak hid his weapons but the farmer guessed the character of the bulges beneath the fabric.
“Friendly enough,” the farmer replied cryptically.
A dog bounded over the stone fence and barked furiously at Pistol. The two animals raced down the road yipping and nipping until the local dog finally turned back. Pistol pranced along Thal’s side on spritely paws, well pleased by the sport.
A blushing twilight outlined the dark blocky castle by the time they reached it. Everyone was plodding after the steep hike up the winding road to the old fortress. Open meadows carved by several dirt trails surrounded the stone walls. On this open height the wind was stronger and flags snapped. It was getting too dark to discern the color and design of the banners.
The drawbridge was down. Its elder timbers were worn smooth by generations of traffic. A weedy vine from the edge of the moat climbed one of the thick chains, proving how little the bridge was raised. The moat was overgrown and murky with green puddles. No people were in sight.
The windy emptiness was obliterated by the deep baying of dogs. The castle hurled out two hulking beasts. Their wide paws thudded on the bridge.
Raphael cried out. Carlo gripped him with dread. Regis retreated and called to his fellows to run. Thal slipped a hand inside his cloak and touched the soft fur. The gentle connection to his truest nature gave him a supreme confidence in the face of the onrushing canines. He unflinchingly met the slavering challengers.
The two massive war dogs slowed to a stop. They continued barking. The booming calls vibrated from their heavy jaws like the striking of drums.
Thal walke
d toward them. Their barking ceased and their heads lowered. He stroked their broad skulls and scratched their floppy ears. Both dogs whined.
Pistol trotted up and the three dogs engaged in a comical series of sniffing as the little dog proved hard for the big dogs to pin with their noses.
“Shall we go meet your master now,” Thal proposed in a friendly tone. He called to his friends who clung to each other in amazement.
A man rushed out onto the bridge with a stiff limping gait. He lifted a lantern and gaped at the guard dogs wagging their tails for a strange man like he was their dearest master.
Confused but trying not to be rude, the man asked who it was.
“I am Thal and my friends are Venetian musicians traveling to Prague. We ask for shelter this evening,” Thal said.
“Musicians,” the gatekeeper murmured.
“Gladly will they entertain your household for some food and a place to rest,” Thal said.
Although pleasantly surprised by the news, the gatekeeper reminded himself that suspicion was the foundation of security. He called the dogs by their names and scolded them for their sudden lack of discrimination.
“This is not a roadside inn. Who sent you?” he demanded.
“No one. We’re weary travelers. We were attacked by bandits most foul and lost our way for a bit. Where are we?” Thal said.
“The Castle of Lord Patercek. How am I to know that you’re not bandits?” the man said.
Carlo took out his zink and put it to his lips. A few beguiling notes as mysterious as a night bird answered the gatekeeper’s question.
“Oh, that was nice,” the gatekeeper said. Regis and Raphael came forward and showed their instruments.
“The master will be pleased with this surprise. I’m Orsh,” he said.
The musicians thanked him and gave their names. Orsh ushered them inside, but Thal lingered on the bridge. The dogs went back and circled him. His shoulders sagged suddenly and he gestured for Orsh to come back to him.
Softly Thal said, “I’m hurt. Is there anyone within who can help me?” He opened his cloak. Orsh leaned closer with the lantern and saw the wide streak of blood soaking the shirt. He noted also the weapons and wondered what sort of mercenary was tramping about the countryside with foreign musicians.
