Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (12 page)

“I’ll be needing my pistol back,” Jan
said.

Thal tossed it onto the road. He considered
again what he was about to do. What would actually happen he was
not sure. He was counting on the half remembered magic of what his
father had done.

“Give up that Devil’s hide to me and maybe
I’ll let you run off after your worthless friends,” Jan
offered.

Thal pulled the fur from his shoulders and
held it out like bait. “Why do you think it is of the Devil?” he
asked.

Jan chuckled darkly. “Don’t play a fool. You
know what you are. God will tolerate your secret rites no more. The
Jesuits told us to be on the watch for warlocks and Devil
worshippers and their sick charms,” he said.

“I worship no Devil,” Thal insisted proudly
although an egg of doubt hatched in his heart. What had he been
doing with his father? What else would people call it?

“Throw down the fur or we’ll shoot you like a
mad dog right here in the dirt,” Jan said, growing impatient. His
man with the pistol came forward menacingly.

“What if my Devil protects me from bullets?”
Thal asked cockily. His body felt hot. Sweat ran down his back. The
moonlight cast heavenly brightness upon his enemies.

“Shoot the dog,” Jan ordered.

“You’ll not kill a man for his only
possession!” Andreli cried. He sprang out of the bushes and fired
his gun.

The horses screamed and bucked until their
riders brought them under control. The dogs slunk back farther,
wanting nothing to do with the situation. The man about to shoot
Thal was spooked into pulling the trigger, and his ball shot off
wildly over Thal’s head.

But another man farther back in the group
pulled a pistol and shot Andreli. The powder flash in the night was
followed by a sharp scream. Andreli stumbled back clutching his
shoulder. His pistol fell to the road.

Thal gasped. Panic ambushed his stout
resolve. He had gotten Andreli shot! The horror of that consequence
maddened him. He hated his rotten judgment. He should not have let
Andreli stay with him, but the temptation for help had been
irresistible. He did not want to be alone. Now he must fight to
help Andreli.

“You weary me,” Jan huffed. He got off his
horse and drew a sword. His men pressed closer on their horses.
Thal retreated a few steps from Jan’s lifted blade.

“There’s only the cleansing fire for you
now,” Jan said.

Thal raised his voice and began to recite the
words written on his fur that he had memorized. Unlike his hushed
tones of practice, he intoned each word with the full force of his
voice and the mysterious meanings of the unknown words resonated
with the unseen primeval forces of the world.

He pulled the fur around his hips and kept
reciting the spell. He did not have to think about it. The words
were swelling out of his being as easily as he had once howled his
songs with his pack.

Jan’s draw dropped as he beheld the
transformation. In the space of a few heartbeats, Thal’s body
rejoined with his wolf spirit. His clothing ripped and fell away as
his body swelled with muscles and its shape distorted into a beast
man. Fur magically covered his powerful body. Once again he felt
the chomping confidence of long powerful jaws instead of a soft
small mouth. Heavy claws armed his hands and feet. And most
pleasing of all was the return of his tail that stiffened with
aggression.

Thal leaped forward onto all fours. His
padded paw hands met the road and his legs were filled with the
familiar animal power that had propelled him on hunts for many
years. He charged Jan who hacked sloppily with his sword. Thal
dodged the blade, grabbed the man around the torso, and hurled him
off the road against a tree. His head bashed the trunk and he
slumped to the ground.

Then Thal rushed into the riders, slashing
horses and men with his claws and snarling savagely. The dogs fled
first, racing down the road with better sense than their
masters.

Thal tore a man from the saddle. His
screaming and thrashing invited Thal to clamp onto his throat, but
he resisted. He was not hunting. He was fighting, and the purpose
was to win and only kill if it came to it. He threw the man against
a horse and bounded toward the next rider. He nipped at the
animal’s legs and sent it galloping away.

The shouting men on their circling and
bucking horses could do little in the chaotic close quarters.
Unnatural terror mauled their normal courage. Flashing eyes
reflected the moonlight with greenish blue, and the beast wove
between their mounts with untrackable speed.

A horse kicked Thal, and the blunt force hit
him hard and sent him flying against another horse. Despite the
flaring pain, he chomped on that animal’s leg. Bleeding, the horse
fled with its rider.

Thal circled the remaining riders,
relentlessly trying to spook their steeds. His slashing hands and
snapping teeth soon overcame any remaining will to stand and fight.
The men yielded to the irresistible panic of witnessing
superstition flower into fact. The man on foot was helped onto a
horse by a friend and they fled with the others. Thal chased them
down the road, snarling and snapping just out of range of the
kicking hooves. He did not want to get clipped by a hard hoof
again. Despite the surging strength of his powerful body, he was
realizing that he had taken a hurtful blow.

When he halted, his tongue lolled out
dripping in the cool night. The thunder of his retreating enemies
satisfied him greatly. He raised his mouth and howled like he never
had before. A huge sound trumpeted from his great throat with an
intelligent rage that put the world on notice that he would defend
his right to live.

The sound filled the vale with shuddering
energy. Peasants clutched their covers and stared into the
darkness. Children whimpered in their little beds. Praying monks
faltered in their entreaties to a higher power when the voice of
the Earth beneath their knees called them to attention. The Gypsies
laboring into the hills looked over their shoulders and feared to
believe what they dreaded to suspect.

Thal finished his song, and dropped down to
his altered hands and feet. He panted heavily but enjoyed an
immense relief to have connected with his true nature. The horse
blood in his mouth spiced his elation.

After catching his breath, he raised back up
onto his legs. Although wolfish, he had discovered that he still
seemed suited to walking upright. He rushed to Andreli who was
moaning in the road. Thal nuzzled his shoulder. The fresh aroma of
human blood worried him. Andreli gasped and quivered in terror.
Thal wanted to comfort him. He licked the wound, and Andreli
squeaked like a mouse.

Thal decided he needed to get Andreli away.
The castle guards might come back looking for their captain. Thal
found their pistols on the ground. He tried to pick them up but his
hands were not as good in this form. He fumbled a while before
gathering them crudely into the bend of his elbow. He had to pick
up his powder horn with his mouth. Then with his other arm, he
hauled Andreli over a shoulder. The Gypsy groaned and then
blathered in terror as he called upon any Saint he could think of
to redeem him from the bestial nightmare.

Thal felt his injury acutely under the heavy
load. He loped up the road into the forest and found a place to put
Andreli down. When he was set down, he tried to scramble away.
Pebbles and leaves were flung aside by his scraping feet. Thal
restrained him and propped him against a tree. He patted and licked
his face, trying to calm him. Finally the insistent mystery of
Thal’s animal eyes entranced Andreli. They stared at each other for
a timeless moment, bound by a connection that the man could not
fathom. A yipe startled Andreli so much he shrieked.

Thal looked over and saw the little brown and
white dog trotting up. They sniffed noses and the dog’s little
tongue flicked across Thal’s lips. Thal nudged Andreli with his
nose and imparted to the dog that he was to stay with the man. The
dog climbed into Andreli’s lap and curled up companionably.

“Thal?” Andreli whispered as his mind tumbled
into a hole of impossible comprehension.

Thal stood up. He wished he could communicate
properly with the man. His wish suddenly revealed his ability and
he let go of the transformation. His body contracted and convulsed
and returned to its manly form. His fur lay at his feet.

“Wait here,” Thal said. He grabbed his fur
and ran down the road.

******

Jan felt like he had been run over by a beer
wagon. His head hurt all the way through to his chin. His back felt
like a kinked up chain. Groaning, he sat up and groggily figured
out that he was alone. When he tried to piece together his last
memories, he cringed against the tree whose gnarled roots gouged
his buttocks. Jan resisted believing what he had seen. He was not
accustomed to feeling such intense fear. The Jesuits had spoken
truly of the devilry now rampart in the land.

He shifted off the uncomfortable roots. His
throbbing head disliked moving, but he crawled into the road. His
hand slipped on something wet and his face flopped against a dead
dog in a pool of blood. Jan had to admit that it took a
stout-hearted man to face down a pack of dogs like Thal had.

He’s no man, Jan thought, forcing the reality
to stay in his mind. The blow to the head notwithstanding, Jan knew
that he was not afflicted with hallucinations.

His solitary state was frightening. Being
alone in the desperate hour before dawn with a werewolf made all
other monster stories tame.

Groping around the road, he climbed over
another dog body. It was darker than earlier. The moon was lower in
the sky and wooded hills were blocking its topaz shine.

Barely audible among the night songs of
crickets and frogs were gentle foot falls. Jan frantically sought
his sword. He grabbed its handle but a bare foot stomped onto the
blade and kept him from raising it. Jan looked up. Naked except for
a fur tied around his loins, Thal backhanded Jan across the face.
The captain spun into the dirt and Thal pounced on his back. He
wrapped an arm under Jan’s chin and choked him until his struggles
started to fade. Then he flung him back in the dirt and yanked off
his boots.

Gasping and hacking, Jan could not stop him,
not even when he pulled off his pants. Thal flipped Jan over and
punched his jaw again. Stunned, Jan could only feebly hinder Thal
as he removed the armor, a padded vest, and a shirt.

Thal got up and retrieved the sword. He stood
over Jan and pressed the point into his throat.

“Don’t go after those Gypsies. I won’t be
traveling with them anymore,” Thal said.

“Bugger yourself,” Jan said.

Thal nicked Jan under the right earlobe. The
man cried out. Thal set a foot on his stomach.

“If I ever hear of you doing anything to
those people, I’ll hunt you down and kill you,” Thal said.

“Best do it now or you’ll regret it,” Jan
dared him.

With a quick swirl of the sword, Thal nicked
below Jan’s other ear.

“Andreli told me not to kill anyone. You owe
him your life for he’s the only reason I’m feeling charitable with
you,” Thal said.

Jan lashed out, but Thal stomped on his
stomach. He stepped away and let Jan writhe and gasp.

“Don’t pursue me. I’ll smell you long before
you reach me. And don’t think to get me with dogs. No dog alive can
take me,” Thal said proudly.

After grunting through his pain like a
laboring woman, Jan said, “You can’t take a man’s clothes.”

“You wanted my fur,” Thal countered without
any guilt. He expected that Jan could readily replace his clothing
and gear whereas he had nothing. The Gypsies had a point about
stealing.

Jan growled in frustration. His humiliation
was overtaking his terror. It would almost be better if the monster
killed him. “You won’t get away. I’ll see that the Rosenbergs and
the Church make you a wanted man. There’ll be a bounty too,” Jan
threatened.

“Then be ready to offer a handsome amount
because hunting me will be a costly affair,” Thal said.

Jan lurched to his feet. A sharp pebble bit
his foot and he cursed. His battered body and throbbing head made
him stagger.

“You’ll be sent back to Hell in greasy
ashes!” he fumed.

Walking away, Thal lifted a hand as if in
farewell. Without looking back, he said, “You should’ve been
contented to lose your pistol in a fair hand of cards. That’s what
an honest and decent man would have done.”

Ugly curses gouted from the guard captain’s
mouth. Thal took note of them for their linguistic novelty, but did
not reply. He hurried up the road with his bundle of clothes until
he found Andreli. Dropping his stolen items, he kneeled beside the
wounded man. The little dog danced around him and licked the
swelling bruise along his ribs.

Andreli had wadded his cloak against his
bleeding shoulder and appeared asleep, but he started awake when
Thal touched him.

The cloak was wet with blood and its meaty
reek made Thal’s head swim. Conflicting feelings vied for control
of his senses. Part of him was desperately worried for his kind
host, but his deeper nature was excited by the prospect of fresh
meat.

“My foolishness has gotten you killed,” Thal
lamented and hung his head.

“Thal, I’m not dead yet,” Andreli said.

“But you’re so hurt,” Thal moaned.

“I’m hoping to live,” Andreli said, and there
was some vibrant force in his voice.

“Oh,” Thal said. It had not occurred to him
that Andreli could be helped. A bad wound to a pack member usually
meant a sad lingering death.

“What can I do?” Thal asked.

Andreli sat up with a groan. He kept pressure
against his shoulder.

“Thal, are you naked again?” he asked.