Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  Thal drew his pistol. “These fellows don’t have guns,” he said and took aim. He pulled the trigger and the bang made all the horses jump. The ball blasted by the sellsword leader’s head.

  Thal quickly started reloading. “Care to take a turn?” he said to Valentino.

  “Damn it man!” Valentino complained but he drew both guns.

  The startled sellswords regrouped. Their leader pointed toward Valentino’s group and advanced with most of his men. One stayed behind to give Rainer a robe. Knowing he could not let this group of riders catch him on foot, Valentino fired a gun and clipped one in the shoulder. He screamed. Clinging to the horse the wounded man turned around.

  “My horse!” Valentino barked. His men hurried up with his skittish mount. He held his second pistol ready, saving its precious shot while Thal continued to reload.

  The sellswords had stopped and were talking. Valentino assumed they were assessing the situation.

  “Why did you shoot at them?” Valentino demanded.

  Thal finished loading his pistol. “I’ve fought with them before. They’ll try to capture me,” he explained.

  “And now I’m in the middle,” Valentino complained.

  “I’d like to think we’re on the same side,” Thal said.

  “Then goddamn hit one of them on your next shot,” the Condottiere said.

  “I was hoping to scare them off,” Thal said.

  “I’ve seen you be scarier,” Valentino muttered. The sellswords started to advance again. Thal raised his pistol to take aim, but Valentino caught his arm. “Wait,” he advised. “Will these men recognize you?”

  “If anyone gets a good look at me,” Thal said.

  With Thal’s memorable eyes staring back at him, Valentino was forced to agree. “Get out of sight,” he ordered.

  The command irked Thal who was ready to fight, but he realized that the sellswords had likely not realized who he was yet. He slipped into the foliage with Pistol at his feet. Valentino mounted his horse.

  “Hello there!” Valentino called, moving forward with his two men. “I think we’re on the same business. We’re out here hunting the werewolves.”

  “You’ve seen the werewolves?” the sellsword leader yelled back.

  “I thought they came this way,” Valentino said.

  “They must have. Our monk has visions that guide him to the beasts. We have been tracking him to catch the creatures,” the sellsword explained. “Why did you shoot at us?”

  “Been up all night hunting monsters. Sorry, I confess my associate was a bit jumpy. Are you all right?” Valentino said.

  “You shot one of my men!”

  “Not badly it looked to me,” Valentino argued. “My apologies.”

  “Words are cheap,” the sellsword leader declared.

  Valentino sighed. He rode closer to the sellswords. “Let me give you a few thalers for our mistake,” he said.

  “Did you see the werewolves at all?” the sellsword asked.

  “We’ve seen big tracks, but I’ll not go into those woods without more men. If I even decide to come back. You say that monk can track those things?” Valentino asked. He leaned to the right and looked past the horses. A bedraggled man in a loose robe was being loaded into a small two-wheel donkey cart that had just caught up to the group.

  “Jesuit business is their own,” the sellsword grumbled. “Who are you?” He could tell that Valentino was a military man of high rank.

  “Oh, please forget you saw me. I’m just out here hunting the beasts on a silly bet made last night. I was mostly trying to impress a lady,” he said. He stuck a pistol in his belt and dug some coins out of his purse. “This should cover a surgeon for your man. Again, my apologies. It’s been a mad night. I fear all of Prague will be jumpy as cats in a kennel till these beasts are gone.”

  Valentino’s blather had succeeded in confusing the sellsword leader. He was tired and trying to interrogate some foreign noble on a country road was likely a poor use of his time. He scanned the area. He was sure that he had seen four men. The fourth man was presumably in the bushes ready to shoot him if anything happened. Since he had found Vito’s wild monk and no werewolves, the sellsword decided to go. He did not really want to capture any sorcerer spawn anyway.

  Valentino handed the coins to one of his men and told him to give them to the sellsword leader. His hand stayed on a pistol until the money was delivered.

  The sellsword leader nodded to Valentino. Getting a few extra coins on this outing was an unexpected surprise he could welcome.

  From the bushes Thal watched everyone withdraw and stepped out of cover.

  “You owe me five thalers,” Valentino announced while patting his horse’s neck.

  “I’ll take care of that as soon as I can,” Thal said.

  “And next time check with me before you start shooting,” Valentino said and muttered to himself in Italian.

  Thal disliked the Condottiere’s bossiness, but he reluctantly admitted to himself that he had reacted poorly.

  “Thank you for your help,” Thal said.

  “I was helping myself and you got lucky,” Valentino grumbled.

  “Why did you really come out here?” Thal asked, doubting that Valentino had done it simply to comfort the musicians.

  “That’s complicated,” Valentino said, wondering at his own motivations. At first he had wanted to confirm what he had seen, but it was more than that. Valentino was always attracted to power.

  “I’ll go back to the city on foot. I need some time alone to think,” Thal said.

  “We all have much to think about,” Valentino said. He was staring hard at Thal, still trying to reconcile his experiences on this sleepless night. He departed with his men. They rode slowly because their horses were tired and they did not want to catch up to the sellswords.

  Chapter 28. Forgotten Secrets

  In the night Thal gave into his hungry urges. He transformed and hunted. His choices were many among the villages and homesteads. What had been resisted so many times during his wild life, he now indulged in. He slew a lamb and gorged on raw flesh while in his wolfen state. Although he now understood properly the cost to the household that he robbed, he had not been able to resist, not when he could get away with it.

  He left the bloody fleece arranged on the meadow grass as if the tasty creature had collapsed meatless upon the ground. Even if the eerie pose did not deter the shepherd, the man would then have to gather his courage to follow the wide fearsome tracks that disappeared into boot prints near the road.

  After traveling as a man partway back to the city, Thal crept into a narrow wooded canyon and settled down for a long sleep. The merry burble of a clear stream weaving through old willows soothed his troubled heart. He ignored the nip of insects and rested deeply.

  Thal nuzzled his face against the fur spread on the ground. He did not open his eyes. Despite the birdsong greeting the dawn, he indulged his laziness and kept sleeping.

  Pistol came and went through the morning, hunting his own hunts, and checking back on Thal periodically. The sun warmed the little hideaway, and he turned his face toward the heat that banished memories of winter hardships.

  When Thal opened his eyes, he squinted against the glare of the sun dancing brightly through the little willow leaves. He slid a hand over his face and almost went back to sleep, but his senses suddenly clicked into an alert state. He was not alone.

  Sneakily he parted his fingers and peeked at his surroundings. He shifted his body casually as if still asleep to change his view. At first he saw nothing except the bright green of new shoots growing up through the forest litter. Then a face took shape within the shady recesses of a bush speckled with tiny white flowers. The face was small but it was no child. Pale as a toadstool the ageless face had golden eyes that were gateways to forgotten secrets. Amazed, Thal forgot his ruse and dropped his hand to look upon the little being fully. The thing’s long flaxen hair was as ethereal as the sparkle upon the flowin
g water.

  Then he or she or it flitted away. Quaking leaves revealed the movement. Thal burst into pursuit. One glimpse of a little body uncatchable as smoke affirmed the scant reality of its existence. Thal crashed through the bushes and looked around. He heard no more movement. His nostrils flared but delivered no information. Looking down, he saw a smudge of bright green upon dry leaves. Stooping he touched the odd powder, fine as pollen. He sniffed the iridescent residue upon his fingers and blinked. Then he blinked again as if fighting off sleep. Thoughtlessly he wiped the powder on his pants. Pistol barked behind him and he went back. The dog was standing on his wolf fur. He rubbed his head and supposed that he was still groggy from heavy sleep. He went back into the bushes to urinate. When he was done, he scooped up his fur and put it on and then covered it with his cloak. High up a nearby oak tree, a raven cawed at him in a laughing sort of way.

  “What’s the joke, friend bird?” he said.

  The raven cackled again and flew away.

  “No accounting for a raven’s humor,” Thal mumbled to Pistol, and they strolled back toward the road together.

  Chapter 29. An Excellent Recommendation

  Anger lurched inside Vito when he saw Rainer. He hated that he had misjudged the danger to his servant when he sent him looking for Thal. The battered monk limped into Vito’s residence with help from Tenzo.

  After the grizzled mercenary deposited Rainer on his cot, he said, “One of my men got shot on your stupid wolf chase.”

  “I pay you to get shot at,” Vito said.

  “You pay me to swing a sword, and speaking of pay—”

  “Serving God is a handsome reward and I’ve been keeping you in room and board. Your precious silver will come to you when I get results,” Vito said.

  “We signed up to fight men not magic beasts,” Tenzo complained.

  “Was it a magical beast that shot at you?” Vito said.

  The sellsword grunted something and recalled that arguing with the fiery Jesuit was futile.

  “Did you see the werewolves?” Vito asked, eager for details.

  “We saw them in the Little Quarter. How your monk can follow them faster than us I’m not sure. We found him outside the city, and he told me the werewolves were gone,” the sellsword said.

  Vito guessed that the sellsword suspected something and was fishing for an explanation.

  “Brother Rainer is tireless in his quest to find these Devil beasts,” Vito said. “Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

  “My pleasure,” Tenzo muttered sarcastically and decided to go to bed before Vito gave him a new assignment.

  Vito entered Rainer’s cell and shut the door. He pulled up a stool next to the cot. Fresh scratches and scrapes were splashed across Rainer’s old scars. The punctures left by big teeth were readily apparent.

  “Dear God,” Vito murmured, lifting Rainer’s arm.

  He called for bandages and clean water. After Vito bandaged the arm he found the bite on the back of Rainer’s neck. He winced. The wound showed Thal’s victory.

  Vito washed the neck wound, and Rainer opened his eyes. Relief washed over him.

  “I’ve got you back with us,” Vito purred, loving as a mother.

  With his minion soothed and full of trust, Vito became more intense. “Did you find where Thal is hiding?” he demanded.

  Rainer opened his mouth to answer, but Thal’s command to keep his location secret tightened his throat. His wounds flared with pain as if some venom filled them with Thal’s will.

  “Well?” Vito said.

  “I chased him out of the city,” Rainer said.

  Fighting for patience, Vito said, “Why? You were supposed to bring him to me.”

  “I can’t control him. He’s more powerful,” Rainer said.

  “You just told me you chased him,” Vito argued.

  Rainer squirmed and rubbed the bandage on his arm. He did not want to talk about Thal. “I don’t remember,” he whispered.

  “The sellswords tell me they saw werewolves in the Little Quarter,” Vito said.

  “Is that what that place is called?” Rainer said. His ignorance of Prague’s geography was substantial.

  “For the love of God, where did you find him?” Vito cried.

  Rainer shook his head and insisted the events of the night were a blur.

  Vito waved a hand with disgust. “You have to do better. We must send this sorcerer’s spawn back to Hell if you’re to gain redemption,” he said.

  “I know,” Rainer whimpered.

  Vito turned Rainer’s head and looked at his neck again. Did it matter if a werewolf was bitten anew by another werewolf? He had no idea what the effect would be, but he had the impression that Rainer was holding something back.

  Rainer lamented. “I tried to gain control of him, but he defeated me. I remember that. His bite seals my fate.”

  “You’ll earn a miracle from God yet,” Vito encouraged. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

  Rainer tossed his head on the straw mattress. He wanted to please his master but darker forces were conquering him.

  “Give me my cross,” he gasped.

  Vito retrieved the string of beads from a peg on the wall. Rainer accepted his beloved charm reverently. Clutching the cross, he felt ready for any discomfort his bites might deliver.

  “He’s not like me. He has a bewitched wolf hide that changes him into a beast,” he said.

  “So it’s true,” Vito whispered, stroking his chin.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Rest, my brother. Perhaps you will remember more after you sleep,” Vito said.

  “Perhaps,” Rainer said, knowing it was a lie. His self hatred flared as he watched his good master withdraw. He wanted to tell the truth. Caressing his beads, he prayed for the strength to free himself from his newest curse.

  When Vito left his wounded monk, he went straight to his private chambers. He ignored a questioning look from Miguel and slammed the door behind him. Vito sat down. His foot tapped the floor. He recalled Thal’s face. Those distinctive eyes and that confident attitude would be impossible to overlook. How could it be so difficult to find such a man? His brothers preaching in the streets were on the look out for him. His sellswords had been told that Thal was the suspected werewolf. Vito supposed that the crowds of thriving Prague gave the man too much cover.

  His mind continued to grind through ideas. He still longed for a chance to sway Thal to his side. But religion that worked so well with Rainer was likely useless with Thal.

  Vito supposed that he would have to go with his second best option of capturing Thal and using the event to gain the goodwill of the people and the gratitude of the influential. To condemn a fierce and unrepentant werewolf who possessed a magical fur would deliver great prestige onto Vito, who could credit the Godly forces of the Church with his success.

  But nothing could be accomplished until Thal was captured. Using Rainer had not worked and his sellswords had failed utterly. Vito reasoned that Thal must have been close when they found Rainer. He speculated sourly that Thal had done the shooting.

  In the main room, Vito heard Miguel greeting someone at the door. His happy voice irked Vito until he realized that Professor Zussek was visiting.

  Vito pushed open his door. It caught in the warped frame and then flew open with a squeak after he kicked it.

  “My good Professor Zussek,” Vito said warmly, coming out to greet him.

  “Ah, Brother Vito, I have much to tell you,” Zussek said.

  “Good, good, come in,” Vito invited.

  Miguel followed the professor into Vito’s office. Zussek’s hair and beard were frazzled and he had bags under his eyes, but he was lively and excited despite his weary appearance.

  “There are two werewolves. I’m sure of it. I’ve been to the scene of their battle,” Zussek reported happily. He set his bag on the table with a clatter and started rummaging inside. He brought out two pieces of folded paper and opened them up
. Stuffed inside were tufts of fur.

  “I collected these samples,” he said. “People on the street told me two beasts had a battle there and I found two distinct types of fur.”

  “What street?” Vito asked.

  “Nerudova. It’s a very nice area, close to the castle,” Zussek explained.

  Vito wondered where Thal could be finding shelter among the wealthy households, but just because he had been spotted there did not mean that his lair was there. Still Vito decided it was a start and he intended to monitor the area more closely.

  “This news is most disturbing. Tell your Magistrate friend that I will prevail upon the Abbot to fund extra hunters to patrol the streets,” Vito said.

  “Magistrate Fridrich will appreciate that,” Zussek said.

  “But sending brutes into the streets may not suffice, except to help people believe that their institutions are taking care of them,” Vito said. “We must be clever. Is there any way you know of to bait a werewolf?”

  The question pleased Zussek. His mind raced through all the obscure folklore he had been absorbing recently, but nothing specific presented itself. Prague was too full of people and livestock for a single vulnerable animal to stand out to a hungry creature.

  “I’ve read more than once that werewolves are generally caught by tracking them after an attack and waiting for them to turn back into men. At that time they are vulnerable and weak,” Zussek said.

  “I had agents attempting that last night,” Vito said.

  “Ah, yes, people told me that there were several groups of men pursuing the beasts last night, but the creatures broke through one of the city gates with ease. There was no stopping them,” Zussek said.

  “Thus the need to bait a trap,” Vito said.

  “I will research it,” Zussek promised.

  Miguel was at the table looking over the samples Zussek had collected. His skin prickled beneath his coarse robe when the hairs brushed his fingertips. These were from the flesh of Devil-spawned beasts.

  “What shall you do with these?” he asked.

  “For my collection of course but also to craft werewolf banes. I believe if I carry these I can avoid attack,” Zussek said.