Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (68 page)

One hot afternoon the leaves throughout the
forest hung silent and a boom of thunder woke her.

Thal leaned over her. “A storm comes,” he
said. The shadow falling across the little window confirmed his
words.

“The other men are going to move their things
inside before it rains,” he said.

“Why are their things outside?” she
wondered.

Thal explained that after the first night he
had made everyone else camp outside so she could have privacy.

“You don’t need to do that anymore,” she
said, not wishing to inconvenience his friends.

He looked at the whites of her eyes. “You are
improving,” he agreed.

His smile was sweet and relieved, and Altea
was glad to see him that way.

Regis banged through the door with his harp
case, followed by his friends. Mileko came in last with firewood
that he dumped into the little stone and mud hearth. Lightning
cracked hard among the tall trees and everyone jumped. Mileko ran
out and came back in with his saddle after tethering his horse to
the cabin. Fat drops of rain pelted the forest and the wind stirred
rapidly.

Everyone hunkered inside. The rain poured and
the trees swayed frightfully beneath the booming black clouds. The
flaws in the roof were soon revealed. Water drizzled down
everywhere except onto the bed that had been strategically
positioned by a prior occupant.

Into the soft patter of the passing storm,
Mileko said, “Our food is down to the last meal.”

“I will hunt tonight,” Thal said.

“As a werewolf?” Mileko asked.

Thal nodded. At dusk he took off his clothes,
leaving only his fur around his hips. He gave one of his pistols to
Raphael. “Do you remember how I said to fire it?” he said.

“Yes,” Raphael said, regarding the pistol
with a blend of distaste and awe. The thing was as different from a
musical instrument as death was from birth.

“Take care,” Altea said.

“Do not worry,” he said, and she was sure he
was looking forward to it.

Adjusting to the company of the other men
without Thal was a little more awkward for her, but Regis charmed
her into relaxing. He sat on the edge of her bed with his harp. His
fingers plucked a little tune.

“Here you do it,” he said.

She shrank away. Her hands were useless.

“Just use one finger,” he coaxed.

Altea turned from him. The lantern light
highlighted the old moss wedged between the logs of the wall.

Regis said, “Altea, you must use your
fingers.” When she still did not respond, he added, “The master who
taught me told me of healing from a bad hand injury. It took a long
time, but he remained a great harpist. He told me that he had to
use his fingers even when he did not want to.”

She regarded the harp now. Tentatively she
reached out and strummed a finger across three strings. The twinkle
of sound encouraged her.

“Good. Now do it with this finger,” he
said.

He helped her sit up and then had her go
through all four fingers on each hand. It aggravated her pain, but
she began to understand his point about keeping her hands
active.

“We can work on this every day. Time will
come when you can do thumbs again too. I’ll teach you to play,”
Regis said.

“I would like that,” she said.

“How is your singing voice?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. No one had
ever complimented her singing, but she supposed she was not
terrible.

“We’ll do voice lessons too. It’ll help pass
time,” Regis said.

“You flatter me,” she said, appreciative of
the foreign singer’s attention.

“You have to join our group if you’re to
travel with us. It’s how we get our supper,” Regis explained.

Raphael and Carlo concurred.

“A lady’s voice would be nice,” Raphael
added.

“I’ll try to be worthy of you,” she said,
aware of their talent.

“You can be the pretty one,” Regis said
because he wished to make her happy.

“Don’t believe him,” Raphael joked. “He think
he’s prettiest.”

Regis shook his long hair and played along
with joke. Tentatively she smiled, grateful for their friendly
humor and because Regis was pretty.

In the morning she heard Thal and Mileko
talking outside. She got out of bed on her own and skirted the
sleeping musicians to reach the door.

Thal had a deer hanging from a tree. It was
neatly gutted and the hunting knife in his hand was ready to begin
butchering.

“You’re up,” he said fondly and came to her.
His hands were bloody and he only had pants on. She noticed a
recent scar on his chest and wondered at the story behind it.

“Good morning,” she said, shyly admiring the
hard curves of his shoulders and his bare stomach.

“We’ll eat hearty today,” Thal said, proud of
his kill. The deer’s coat glistened with health and its antlers
were still bound in delicate felt.

Mileko criticized, “You should’ve taken
something smaller. This meat will go bad before we can eat it all
or attract a bear, which would be worse.”

Altea judged that he was jealous.

Thal started making incisions around the legs
as he prepared to remove the hide. “The meat won’t go to waste.
You’ll take it to the nearest village and trade for things we
need,” Thal said.

Although Mileko did not admit it, the idea
was a good one.

“Altea needs shoes. That will be your
priority,” Thal added, and she glowed with love for his
thoughtfulness.

When he finished the butchering, he went to a
stream to wash while his friends cooked a meal. Altea plucked at
the harp until she could not bear the aggravation to her
thumbs.

After they ate, Thal invited her for a walk.
At first she did not think she could do it, but he insisted that it
was time for her to be more active.

He took her on a gentle route. They went
slowly so she would not risk stumbling on a tree root. Altea
admired the vital beauty of the woodland. The damp Earth was cool
beneath her toes. Green moss caressed her feet with freedom. She
had never smelled a place so pure. The urban stone and stink of her
native Prague no matter how artfully dressed up could not compare
to the majesty of this place where even a falling leaf presented a
transitory glimpse of infinite peace.

This was Thal’s world where his cares did not
press down on him so much, and she thought him even more
handsome.

“I wonder what became of my brothers,” she
said.

“They were not at your house when I went
there,” Thal said.

“Martin must have sent them to the country,”
she surmised. She drooped with melancholy to think that she would
never see them again. Her sadness deepened when she considered that
they would not want to see her after what she had become in their
eyes.

“Their lives will go on, and so will yours,”
Thal said and put an arm around her. He backed her up against a
tree and started kissing her. Altea gave into his advance. The
excitement pushed away the pain.

A blissful carefree state consumed her mind.
The surging joy and hot pleasure reduced the cost of her trauma. To
be loved felt so good. To have his strong body close made her feel
exceptional. His shoulders looming over her seemed as big as the
forest and she was drawn to its immensity.

Inexorably their hips pressed together. An
incendiary and insistent desire tugged at her body and demanded
that she yield. She knew no hesitation with Thal. She had no fear
of his manhood. She wanted him inside her. Altea tore away from his
domineering lips and kissed his neck and chest. She took the silver
medallion between her teeth and moaned deeply as his hands gripped
her hips. She wished she could sink her fingers into his strong
back.

Thal pulled loose the laces on her bodice and
tugged open her shirt. She leaned against the tree while he untied
the knot in her chest bindings. Her breasts spilled out. She heaved
her bosom into his hands because she wanted to give him everything,
but she gasped in pain. The medallion slipped from her mouth.

Thal eased back, realizing only now that he
had been pressing against her more than he intended. Altea tried to
catch her breath as the pain subsided.

Very carefully Thal put his hands back on her
breasts. She shut her eyes and savored the sensation of her hard
nipples against his palms. A noose that killed all restraint swung
on a gallows deep inside her pelvis.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured as his hands
studied the landscape of her body, but he could not ignore the dark
bruising that had yet to fade from her chest.

“We must wait,” he said heavily.

“No!” Altea gasped. “I want you. Just be
gentle.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

“But you can control the beast,” she
said.

“It’s the man I fear,” he said. He turned
from her and put his back against the tree too. “I can’t bear the
thought of hurting you,” he said.

She heard the undertow of discomfort in his
voice. Resisting consummation tested his will power to the point of
pain.

“You’re right,” she conceded. Already their
heavy petting had aggravated her ribs. Her chest throbbed.

“Just a little while more, my love,” he
said.

******

Thal admired Altea while she practiced
singing with Regis. They stood in a sunny glen not far from the
cabin. Each day renewed her a little more. Although her nightmares
persisted, her singing gave Thal hope that she would reclaim a
sense of security.

The deep controlled breathing that Regis was
teaching her was good for her recovery as well. She winced
sometimes at the strain but it was strengthening her torso. Thal
appreciated the kind efforts Regis was making on her behalf. His
friend had a point about giving Altea a role in their little
company. Thal had been spending his days in thought about how they
would travel. He was an extremely wanted criminal and he was not
the easiest man to disguise because of his distinctive looks.

Hiding at the cabin was growing tedious for
him. He supposed it was his lusting frustration that made it
difficult. He had not taken Altea for a walk since their last
encounter. To make sure she got exercise he sent Carlo out with her
every day.

The musicians had their music to indulge in,
but they were growing restless too. They were accustomed to an
audience, and the lack of drink at the cabin was bemoaned
continually as a hardship.

Thal had taught them to gather wild edibles
to keep them busy and fed, but their meat supply was running low.
He must hunt again soon. Mileko had been successful trading the
first deer at a nearby village. The shoes he had brought back had
even been a good fit for Altea.

Mileko came out of the cabin and stood beside
Thal.

“I think she’s fit enough to travel,” he
announced.

“If you let her ride your horse,” Thal
said.

A nod from Mileko showed his unwillingness to
argue about it. “She is lucky. Few come back from torture. She must
have confessed quickly,” he commented.

“I do not ask her about it,” Thal said.

“Does she have any powers?” Mileko asked.

I could give her power, Thal thought even as
he forbade the idea. “She’s a strong woman,” he said.

“But she’ll still slow us down,” Mileko
said.

“Have you a reason for haste?” Thal wondered.
He had figured that the longer he stayed hidden the safer it would
be to emerge back into society.

“I had not planned on escorting so many,”
Mileko said.

“I cannot leave them. I’ve brought them
danger and must take care of them now,” Thal said, regretting only
his mistakes and not future responsibilities.

He wondered at the discomfort in Mileko.
“Will my father not accept my friends?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t say that, but he may
be…surprised,” Mileko said. After putting up his hood, he added,
“And annoyed with our delay.”

“I will take responsibility,” Thal said.

“Such words should not be spoken lightly in
regard to Sarputeen,” Mileko said and walked off into the
trees.

Thal let him go. He knew where Mileko went in
the forest. Several times Thal had spied on him. Mileko practiced
slight-of-hand tricks, knife throwing, and prolonged
meditation.

When Altea looked over at Thal, his skin
heated up at the flash of her smile. To see her sign of happiness
helped him forgive himself a little.

That night he lay in bed next to her and
listened for everyone to fall asleep. Her body next to his prodded
his physical desire but he was able to keep control as long as they
were not alone. He would not treat her like some tavern wench that
gets shagged in a hallway.

He kissed her on the forehead and then
slipped out of the bed. He hoped a nightmare would not trouble her
while he was away. Outside he undressed. A first quarter moon
peeked through the forest canopy. Picking up his magic fur he
chanted the spell and transformed. Although the process was
painful, once it was done euphoria resulted. Thal gloried in his
animal power. His connection to the living world around him was
unfiltered and the hunt beckoned.

“Thal?”

His wide back paws kicked up leaves when he
spun in surprise. Altea had come outside. Her hands were
outstretched as she advanced carefully in the darkness. Thal went
to her. Her fingers massaged into his fur behind his ears. He
rubbed his head on her hip. Her gentle acceptance of him was
reassuring. Thal came up onto his back legs and licked her face.
She giggled and turned away.

Dropping back to all fours, he nudged her
back to the cabin where Pistol waited in the doorway. She
understood that she must stay while he hunted. He looked back once
after bounding off among the trees to make sure she went back
inside.

In the morning everyone awoke to him cleaning
another deer. The bloody puncture holes where his hefty jaws had
crushed its windpipe were bright upon its neck. Pistol wagged his
tail approvingly.