Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (21 page)

Done with his attempt at avoiding a fight,
Thal stuck his pistol in his belt and drew a knife from his boot.
Armed with two blades, he rushed the closest man and hacked down
with his sword into his head.

The impact of the blade with the skull made
an awful sound. A spray of hot blood peppered Thal’s cheek. The
stink of the man gagged him.

The bandit dropped to his knees, thoroughly
felled by the mortal blow, and crashed on his face. His nearest
comrade swung a club. Thal ducked and then lunged forward. He
thrust the sword point into the man’s torso. The bandit screamed.
Frozen by the sharp agony, he could not react when Thal thrust his
knife into his face. The blade plunged through nose cartilage and
skidded on the skull until it pierced deeply. Thal yanked out both
blades and bounded toward the third figure kicking at his dog.

This man had a club too, and he swung it
wildly across the darkness. Hitting nothing, he lifted his club to
swing again, but the little dog shaking his leg made him look down.
Thal attacked. His sword chopped into the man’s biceps. Following
soon afterward was a knife to the heart. The sternum split with a
sharp crack beneath the knife point and Thal shoved it all the way
in.

With his foot, Thal pushed the body off his
blade. The man fell back with a thud and Pistol snuffled him
victoriously. Thal’s chest heaved. His large muscles shook from the
intensity of the encounter. Swiftly he had slain three men, and he
grappled with a surge of violent mania. Thal beheld the bestial
soul shadow of men that could kill without hunger. It rose up
before him like a mirror that reflected only darkness.

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.

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.