Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (58 page)

“I yield!” he squealed.

Valentino lifted his rapier. A red line oozed
on Jan’s neck but it was not a mortal cut.

Stepping back, Valentino regarded the man. “I
was not who you were expecting was I?” he said.

Jan growled and sat up. He cast a sour look
at his men that were in the custody of unknown sellswords. How had
the scrawny musician ever gotten this crew on his side?

“This was none of your business,” Jan
groused.

Valentino motioned for two of his men to
disarm the Captain. Jan fussed when they took his pistol and
started tugging at his armor.

“You’re in league with a Devil worshipper,”
Jan said.

Valentino smirked. “I am a Condottiere.
You’ll have to try harder if you’re hoping to insult me,” he
said.

“I’m tracking a shape-shifting son of the
Devil. Your interference will be reported,” Jan said. He held onto
his armor but it was still pried away.

Valentino reminded him of his victory with a
poke to the cheek. “Reported?” he mocked. “I think you’ll find it
takes quite a bit to get me in trouble.”

Stripped of his pistol and armor, Jan scooped
up his sword and stomped away. He cursed and whacked his sword
against the stable so hard the blade revealed yellow within the
weathered boards. Valentino’s men laughed. Jan turned his rage on
his surviving men. He called them idiots and asked one of the
crossbowmen why he had not shot the Condottiere.

The crossbowman looked at Valentino
helplessly. “I didn’t know who that was,” he said and still did
not. “None of them were Thal.”

Valentino decided he did not need to tarry in
the vicinity of the vanquished. He was happy with the trophies of
his little duel and feeling good about himself.

“Get out of Prague,” he warned Jan.

Jan narrowed his eyes and did not appear
inclined to obey.

Valentino’s men mounted up on their horses
and gave rides to the musicians. As they pushed through the crowd,
Regis asked Valentino if he had seen Thal.

“He’ll catch up to us. He was terribly
worried about you. It’s so touching how much love he has for his
friends, but I wouldn’t let him rush into this trap. Although I
daresay he might have survived it. That Rosenberg man couldn’t plan
a cockfight.”

Regis looked back. He worried he might have
an irrevocable fear of stables after the terror and torment he had
endured. And his friendship with Thal had been the cause of it.
Thal had warned him, and he had to wonder if he and his companions
were now permanently branded as associates of a werewolf.

On the way to Carmelita’s mansion, Regis
convinced Valentino to stop at the tavern from where they had been
abducted. The musicians recovered their instruments that the maid
and Rocko had kindly set aside. Regis, Raphael, and Carlo thanked
them profusely for waiting before taking the precious items to a
pawnbroker.

When they reached Carmelita’s house, she was
horrified by the condition of her musicians. She had a garden party
planned for that afternoon but conceded that her players could not
possibly play.

“Is Thal here?” Carlo whispered to his
hostess.

Carmelita shook her head and looked to
Valentino. He frowned. He had expected Thal to have revealed
himself by now.

“He should be coming,” Valentino said. Carlo
and his friends did not look placated but they were exhausted and
had to let the servants take them away to be tended.

Alone now, Carmelita took Valentino’s hand.
He was sweaty and smelled of gunpowder and faintly of blood so she
was careful to prevent her fine silk gown from brushing against
him.

“I’ve heard today of terrible things
happening in the night. Was it Thal?” she asked.

He nodded. “He told me as much himself,” he
said.

Frustration and fear twisted her shapely lips
into something between a pout and a snarl. She was accustomed to
getting her way and finessing even dangerous politics into her
seemingly playful world, but Thal was something beyond her
powers.

“I don’t think I can harbor him anymore,” she
said. Wistfully she imagined other scenarios with the charismatic
shapechanger who clothed sorcery in divine raiment and made banal
the holy.

“He knows,” Valentino said, rubbing her
fingers. Flush from his victory, he was keen to get cleaned up and
recount the details of his battle to her in private.

“But you told his friends he’s coming here,”
she said.

“I thought we’d see him out on the streets,”
Valentino said but he was beginning to wonder what had happened to
Thal. As wanted as he was, he might have been apprehended by just
about any authority or vigilante or bounty hunter.

“I’ll go to my place and see if he’s still
there. I’ll send him your regards. Then I’ll come back to you,”
Valentino said. He leaned down and kissed her. His tongue told her
of his eagerness for her.

“I’ll be here,” she whispered, loving the
forgetfulness that washed over her when he caressed her.

“And keep those musicians out of sight.
Answer no questions about them to anyone and tell them to tell no
one anything about Thal ever,” Valentino advised.

“Will Thal get away from Prague?” Carmelita
worried.

“When he’s done killing,” Valentino said.

Thal was a man who listened to his instincts.
After venturing into the streets to make sure his friends were
rescued, a peculiar unease nagged at him. It was more than the
heightened suspicions from the people in the street. Wagging
tongues all over Prague were spreading various descriptions of him
after his public murder of Constable Bekcek, and people were
looking at him more closely. Despite the obvious scrutiny, Thal
remained unmolested. His reputation was so notorious that anyone
who saw him soon realized that he or she did not want to be the one
to turn him in, reward or no. No one wanted to find out how far the
claws of his supernatural powers could reach.

But a creepy feeling persisted, like when he
had known another wolf had entered his territory before finding its
track or spoor. Often he sniffed the air, but the nature of the
intrusion eluded him. The wind blowing across the city from the
southwest was likely denying him the scent that would confirm what
his feelings told him.

Preoccupied by his worrisome foreboding, he
moved slowly across the Little Quarter. Pistol sniffed the road a
few paces ahead. His tail wagged excitedly, and Thal saw the burned
out buildings that Carlo had described. A crowd was clogging the
street and Thal guessed that the fight was happening or just
done.

When people gave way for riders, Thal ducked
behind a parked wagon. With relief he saw Valentino and his
sellswords ride out with Regis, Raphael, and Carlo. They turned
down another street, likely heading to Carmelita’s mansion.

Thal was about to run after them when Pistol
started growling. The dog was looking back the way they had come,
which confirmed Thal’s suspicion that he was being followed.

He backtracked. Just before turning a corner,
the scent of his hunter finally reached him. Thal pressed against a
stucco wall. He still had a chance to flee but he did not want to.
Pistol growled lightly, as if arguing with his decision.

“I must,” Thal whispered and stepped around
the corner.

A haggard monk in a brown robe was only a few
paces away. Startled, he faltered, stopped, and looked like he
meant to run away.

“Rainer,” Thal said.

The monk clutched his cross. His facial
features swung between terror and relief. Thal was pained to see
that the man was such a wreck, but perhaps it was a good sign that
he had come looking for him. Thal wanted to give him the guidance
that no other could provide.

“You must help me,” Rainer said.

Thal gently pulled him to the side of the
street so they could talk. “You have my friendship. What can I do?”
he said.

Rainer grimaced, struggling against the churn
of his emotions. “Your bites have bound me to you,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Thal said. Worry slid
through him like an icy slug in his guts.

“I wanted to tell Brother Vito where you
were. I wanted to,” Rainer said.

Thal saw that withholding the information
from his Jesuit brothers had been difficult. “I appreciate that you
honored my request,” he said.

“Request?” Rainer sneered. “Your bidding is
my command now. I tried to betray you, but there was too much pain
from your bites.”

Thal regretted that he had added to Rainer’s
torment. He could only hope to make amends. His mind chewed on the
news that his bite could impose mastery upon another werewolf.
Would his bite on a regular man make a werewolf? It must, he
reasoned, but the implications were disturbing, tempting even.

“Rainer, forgive me. I didn’t know that would
happen. I know you want to be faithful to your brothers but keeping
my secret has helped protect innocent people,” Thal said.

A tick twitched one of Rainer’s eyes. Hard
drilling pain flared in his flesh where Thal’s wolfen teeth had
once penetrated. He covered his face with his hands and started
sobbing. He collapsed against a building. Thal put an arm around
his shoulders to support him. He murmured encouragement and tried
to offer Rainer hope.

“Why did you make my curse worse?” Rainer
wailed.

“It wasn’t my intention. I didn’t know.
Please calm yourself,” Thal said. Trying to comfort a weeping monk
was making him more conspicuous.

“I can’t be calm. Brother Vito’s men are
coming to get me. He’ll lock me away or worse because you’ve taken
my loyalty from him. I’m no good to him anymore. You must help me,”
Rainer said.

“I’ll help you. We can avoid his men. Trust
me,” Thal said.

“Trust the Devil!” Rainer scoffed and dropped
to his knees.

Thal tugged him back to his feet. “We must
go. You’re drawing attention,” he fretted. A shopkeeper was
pointing to them and talking to people.

Hauling him along, Thal pleaded with Rainer
to walk. Pistol yanked on his robe, but Rainer let his legs stay
mushy as he wailed in fear of what Vito would do to him. The more
he repeated his master’s ruse, the more he feared that it was
actually true. Vito would send him to the fire. He had probably
just been saving him to make a big display and gain more prestige.
All his promises of salvation laughed inside Rainer’s troubled
mind, yet he clung to the dream of redemption. Bringing Thal to
justice would bring God’s grace. It had to.

Thal threw up his hands, dismayed by Rainer’s
feeble crawling and mewling.

“You have to keep going, Rainer. I’ll protect
you but you must try,” Thal said.

Rainer gasped and wiped his eyes with shaking
hands. His trick was working. The hope of success made his love for
God bloom with brighter colors but then the pain slashed at him
again because his heart was betraying his sorcery-born master.

Slowly Rainer got his feet underneath him.
Supporting him, Thal praised his effort.

“It’s hard,” Rainer groaned through gritted
teeth.

“You can do it,” Thal said but then noticed
the palpable tension in Rainer that signified pain. Sudden clarity
tossed away Thal’s many distractions and he sensed the dishonesty
in Rainer. If his bite had enthralled Rainer, then why was he still
in pain if he had come to Thal for help?

Galloping horses charged around a corner.
Thal whirled to face the riders with his hands on both guns. Four
sellswords bore down on him. People pressed against buildings to
get out of their way or dashed into doorways. Thal summoned his
beastly fury that always waited beneath the calm pool of his
lovelier self. His powerful scream spooked the horses. Two of them
reared and the other two faltered despite the spurs digging into
their sides.

Bringing his pistols up, Thal took aim.
Rainer tackled him. They hit the street rolling. Pistol jumped and
snapped at the tussling bodies. Thal beat at Rainer, but the monk
held on tenaciously. His hands were inside Thal’s cloak, tearing
open the folded fabric and clutching the precious fur.

Thal clubbed Rainer with a pistol. Rainer
screamed and Thal pushed him away. Staggering to his feet, he
looked up into the pistol barrel of a sellsword. The man had
dismounted his unruly horse and charged ahead on foot. Thal threw
himself aside just as the powder ignited. The lead ball missed Thal
and embedded itself in a thick wooden door of a nearby building.
Thal rolled over and shot at the sellsword. The ball caught him in
the throat. He fell. Pouring blood puddled around him quickly.

The other sellswords abandoned their horses
and advanced on foot. Thal shot at them but missed. Shoving his
pistols into his belt, he drew his sword. Rainer flopped toward him
and grabbed a leg.

Thal tried to shake him off. He was not sure
if pity or kinship kept him from hacking into the madman.

“Let me go!” he cried.

The sellswords were upon him and he had to
deflect their blows with his sword while Rainer still held him. One
of the men seized Thal’s sword arm while he crossed blades with
another. All of them piled onto him and brought him down like a dog
pack on a boar. Pistol’s vicious snarls punctuated the fist-flying
fray until he got kicked away.

Rainer tore Thal’s cloak halfway off and
extracted the fur. Thal felt it slip away like someone was tearing
the heart from his chest. His fury escalated and doubled his
already considerable strength. He battled the three remaining
sellswords. He shoved a pistol out of his face. The roar of its
firing rattled his skull but at least no lead penetrated his body.
His sword was still in his hand despite a man trying to pry it
loose. The third man got the tip of his sword under Thal’s chin and
finally subdued his struggles. They backed Thal up against a wall.
Everyone was puffing from exertion. With an agonized gaze Thal
looked upon Rainer with his fur.