Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (20 page)

Carlo continued, “He was in a fight. That
sword cut on his chest is real. How could he fight men with swords
and get away when he’s naked?” The dark-haired man threw up his
hands, tossing out his question for someone to catch and
answer.

“He even came back with a sword,” Raphael
noted quietly.

“He might have killed someone,” Carlo
whispered and glanced apprehensively at Thal.

“We’ll just have to make him tell us what
happened,” Regis decided. He smoothed back his long blonde hair and
twirled it with his fingers at the back of his head while he
yawned.

“All we can do is rest right now,” Raphael
decided.

The three men spread their blankets beneath
the pines. Pistol curled up next to Thal, and everyone slept
through till afternoon.

Thal opened his eyes first. A suslik was
rotating a little pine cone and nibbling out the seeds. When it
realized Thal was awake, it tossed aside the cone and scurried
away. Pistol tore off after it and was soon engaged in a hectic
game of hide and seek among little holes throughout the grove.

Thal pushed himself up and immediately his
wound stung. The scabbing flesh pulled against the blunt stitches.
He combed his fingers through his hair and noticed that it was
getting longer. He slapped his hat back on and scanned the area and
listened carefully. Birds and scampering wee animals rustled
through the woodland, but he sensed no threats.

He pondered his brief encounter with Brother
Vito. The man had an inscrutable quality that unsettled Thal, who
could read most people with ease. He did not understand Vito’s
motivations or purpose.

And Rainer had obviously been under Vito’s
mastery. Thal understood firmly now that he did not want a leader.
He would lead or be alone.

Appreciatively he looked over his three
sleeping companions. He regretted the harrowing cross country
flight he had just taken them on.

Quietly he stole away and left them
undisturbed. With his hunting knife he cut and fashioned four small
spears and set off in search of food. Pistol padded along with him,
determined to be helpful.

The silent concentration needed to find and
stalk prey pushed back Thal’s anxieties. His immersion in the wild
setting cleared his mind. Reducing the world to scents and sights
and strategy reminded him of the simple pleasure of existence. He
was flowing along with the forces of all the living things in a
harmony as gentle as seedlings poking through soft soil.

With the aid of Pistol, he found a rabbit
warren and the digging little dog tore into it and caused a general
panic. Thal dug with one spear alongside his dog until they
breached the inner sanctum and the rabbits dashed into various
tunnels. Thal bounded toward one exit and speared one as it flew
out at high speed. Pistol ran around trying to catch others, but he
failed and went back to his digging until he found kits to fill his
belly.

Thal lifted his spear with the scrawny rabbit
dangling bloody from the end. It was not much to share among four
men.

He noticed a little blood soaking into his
shirt. His digging and thrusting had aggravated the fresh stitches.
He looked in his shirt. The wound was still held shut but the skin
around it was swollen and red.

The day was waning. Splendid shafts of light
kissed the woods with gold, and a smile graced his face as he
walked back to his friends. On his way he found some mushrooms and
plucked them up. They would add greatly to the supper.

When he neared the grove of pines, he hailed
the other men and held up his kill. “I thought everyone would like
some fresh meat tonight,” he said.

“Thank God!” Regis cried. “We thought you
abandoned us. We have no idea which way the road is.”

Thal gestured south with the rabbit. The
direction was obvious to him. “But I plan to go straight north
through these wild hills,” he said.

“We’ll get lost,” Regis warned.

For doubting him Thal gave him a
condescending look. He squatted and started gutting and skinning
the rabbit. His knife cut without error and he slipped the skin off
in one quick pull.

“We’ll find trouble if we backtrack. Better
to keep in the direction of Prague. We’ll come out on a road
eventually and get back to playing at taverns soon enough,” Thal
said confidently.

Raphael made an indignant comment that Thal
did not quite catch. He glanced to Regis for a translation. The
handsome Venetian picked his next words carefully. “Thal, you know
we like you, but last night was, well, surprising to us. We need
you to tell us what happened.”

Thal stuck the rabbit carcass back on the
spear and sat back. He rubbed his fingers and looked at the blood.
He wanted to lick it off.

“The monk Brother Vito asked me to join his
group. I’m not sure why. He said he was looking for men. I was
curious and spent some time talking with him. I carelessly
mentioned that I was traveling with musicians, and I feared that I
offended him when I declined to join him. Once I realized he might
be angry, I was worried that he would look for musicians in order
to find me. He had armed men with him. I didn’t want you to get in
trouble because of me, and I thought if we could get out of that
place quickly then nothing would come of it.”

His companions believed him, but he had
carefully avoided the larger issue.

“Thal,” Regis said reproachfully. “You gave
me all your clothes and weapons and faced riders, took a wound, but
still made it back to us. How can this be?”

“I’m quite good in a fight,” Thal said.

“Obviously,” Regis said impatiently.

The three musicians stared at Thal, waiting
for him to say more. Because his actions had been so incredible
they did not feel that expressing their demands with more words was
necessary.

“I don’t know how to explain,” Thal
murmured.

Regis recognized deep turmoil in his chosen
guardian. He had not seen Thal appear so troubled before, but now
he realized that the steely young man had been hiding behind a
façade.

He set a hand on Thal’s shoulder. “We won’t
judge you,” he said.

“It’s not your judgment I fear,” Thal
said.

“Then what?” Regis cried.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I would
never hurt you. I count you as my friends,” Thal said, and the
vulnerability of his sincerity contrasted with the normal
confidence his companions had come to expect of him.

“Do you have mad fits?” Regis asked
soberly.

Thal shook his head. Accepting that he had to
tell them something, he said, “I have powers, but I am in control
of them.”

Gasps were their collective reply. Several
comments in their language flew around until Regis asked, “Do you
mean like a magician or…warlock?”

“Magic is the only word I have for it,” Thal
said.

“What can you do?” Carlo asked in awkward
Czech.

Thal stood up and turned his back on them. He
believed the truth would frighten them too much, but they had shown
him so much trust last night, and it felt wrong to keep his secret.
He tasted of the difficulty Rainer must face in daily existence.
Thal pondered how his true nature would burden his life.

“I become like a beast. That’s why I took off
my clothes so I would not ruin them,” he said.

Their stunned silence pressed against his
back and he continued, “I don’t want you to ever see me that way. I
don’t want you to be afraid of me.” He faced them. “I’m a man. I
want you to think of me as a man.”

The men nodded weakly, silenced by their
deepening shock.

Thal decided he had shared too many details.
He had been a weakling and a fool. “I’ll get you back to a road and
we can part ways so I will trouble you no more. It’ll be for the
best,” he said. To part with them would be painful, but he locked
down his feelings like a prisoner on the rack. If he could leave
his pups, he could walk away from a few traveling companions.

Although Regis was shocked by Thal’s
revelations, he could not escape his sympathy and fondness for
Thal. “Let’s not talk of you abandoning us on the side of the road.
We’ll get a fire going and cook that dinner. Then play a little
music. Music tames the beast, right?” He laughed a little.

Thal smiled, a little overwhelmed by Regis’s
nervous attempt at accommodation.

Thankful for something normal to do, Carlo
and Raphael gathered firewood. Thal noticed their furtive glances
in his direction as they saw him from a new perspective.

After Thal got the rabbit roasting on a spit
over the fire, he whittled a thin stick to skewer the mushrooms. He
held them over the fire and concentrated on gently roasting
them.

Carlo asked him a question and Thal had to
ask him to repeat himself. On the second attempt Thal understood
that Carlo was concerned the mushrooms might not be safe.

“They’re good. I assure you,” Thal said,
rather looking forward to them. He had recognized them right away
and not had any doubts about their edibility. Carlo still looked
doubtful.

“If you don’t want any, it’s more for me,”
Thal said.

Carlo looked upon the crinkly capped
mushrooms anew. His hunger urged him to be more daring.

When the food was ready, Carlo indulged in
the mushrooms just like everyone else. They savored them and
praised Thal for the find.

Still clueless as to how to digest Thal’s
weird confession, the musicians turned to their favored form of
expression. In the twilight next to their crackling pine-scented
fire, they played their instruments. Thal lounged on his side.
Their music massaged his spirit. Stars slowly brightened until it
was fully night, and the drooping pine boughs around their hidden
camp were silhouetted by the orange firelight.

After Raphael and Carlo put away their zink
and lute and stretched out to rest, Regis still plucked his harp
and attempted to compose a few lines.

Thal is man and beast,
Unbeaten west to east.
With his hat and gun
He walks under the sun.

Down roads then up
With traders he will sup,
Defending the good
And ruling the wood.

When comes the night,
He grows in might.
He fears no weapon or blow,
Always knocking his enemies low.

Music can this beast tame
Join me and sing his fame.

Regis sighed with frustration. “Needs to be
better,” he muttered.

Thal sat up a little. “So you believe me
then?” he asked.

Regis put his harp away with loving care. “I
believe you believe what you said,” he said.

“So you don’t believe in magic creatures?”
Thal pressed.

“Of course I do. I just never expect to keep
one’s company, and it makes it hard to believe,” Regis said. “Did
you like the song?”

“I suggest you keep working on it,” Thal said
charitably.

“I know.”

“Even so, I’m rather flattered,” Thal
added.

“We’ve done well since you appeared. I think
you’re good luck,” Regis said.

“You put a heavy burden on me then,” Thal
remarked. “Most people would think me of the Devil.”

“Bah!” Regis said and waved a hand.
“Everything these days is said to be wrong and Devil-inspired. If a
man has a free thought, he’s a sinner.”

Thinking of the many free thoughts his father
must have had, Thal wondered if there was a point that was too far
in such things. He had been willing to become what he was. He
remembered that much. Had his father needed to convince him? Or had
Thal asked this magic of his father? He had so many questions. He
had to get to Prague.

“We should get some rest,” Thal said.

“Good night,” Regis said.

As Thal listened to the trees swish in the
breeze, he gently fingered his tender wound. The bleeding had
stopped, but the sting was constant. With his other hand, he
stroked his dog’s head and drifted into sleep.

Later in the night, his eyes popped open when
Pistol’s head rose. He drew in the crisp night air, and his senses
lit up with alarm. He sat straight up. Pistol trotted away
growling.

Quickly he got his gun and hurried over to a
tree. He smelled men and he analyzed the air in every direction and
listened closely. Six men were advancing on the camp, coming from
two directions. Thal’s first thought was that it was Rainer and the
sellswords, but the scent was unfamiliar. A strong reek of
prolonged unwashed nastiness and foul hearts told him of a new
danger. His friends had mentioned that bandits roamed remote
corners. The music must have attracted them from a distance because
Thal had noted no sign of these threatening men earlier.

He quietly roused his friends. “Get ready to
fight. Men are coming,” he said.

“We’re not fighters,” Raphael protested.

Thal understood despite the language
difference. “They mean to kill us,” he said matter-of-factly. As
surely as sun warms dark metal, he felt the sinister purpose of the
skulking men.

“Don’t let them grab you,” Thal advised.

Pistol started barking in the brush. Thal
grabbed his sword and ran toward the sound with gun and blade.
Someone yelled at the dog. Another man grumbled that their surprise
was spoiled.

“Just rush in!” shouted a voice.

Thal spotted three figures in the dark.
Crouching into the cover of vegetation, he shouted, “Who are
you?”

“I’m about to be ye lord and master,” yelled
back one man.

Pistol snarled and a man cussed at teeth
nipping his breeches. “Damn dog! Get off!”

“Go away or I’ll attack,” Thal warned. He saw
that the two men not dancing around Pistol’s persistent snaps were
beating the bushes trying to locate him.

“We’ll bend you over like a priest’s boy,”
laughed a man.

Thal heard his friends cry out as they were
beset by the other group of prowlers. He hoped they could fend off
the nasty men for a little while.