Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale
Tracy Falbe
Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale
By
Tracy Falbe
Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale
Copyright Tracy Falbe, all rights reserved
Smashwords Edition
First published 2013 by Brave Luck Books ™ an imprint and trademark of Falbe Publishing.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events described herein are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not done on purpose by the author.
This work is protected by U.S and International copyright law. All rights reserved to the copyright holder, Tracy Falbe, who spent a year of her life developing and crafting this story and whose written works generate one of her few sources of income. Except for reasonable quotes and excerpts by reviewers, the content of this book cannot be reproduced or distributed in whole or part in any medium without express written permission from the publisher.
To contact Tracy Falbe, please visit her website at www.braveluck.com.
Cover image copyright Tracy Falbe. Stock images used in its design are licensed by Fotolia.com.
Dedication
To Barbara
Table of Contents
Other fantasy novels by Tracy Falbe
Chapter 1. Water and Blood
Chapter 2. Humanity
Chapter 3. Mother Shadow
Chapter 4. Fire in the Night
Chapter 5. Much Devilry Afoot
Chapter 6. From the Forest
Chapter 7. Wheel of Fortune
Chapter 8. True Nature
Chapter 9. A Fearsome Sign
Chapter 10. Protector of the Weak
Chapter 11. Another Like Him
Chapter 12. The Ferryman
Chapter 13. Soul Shadow of Man
Chapter 14. The Castle of Lord Patercek
Chapter 15. Talk of Monsters
Chapter 16. The Devil Instead
Chapter 17. The Thirteenth Witch
Chapter 18. The Great Question
Chapter 19. Voice to His Grief
Chapter 20. Bound by Loss
Chapter 21. Kill Without Sin
Chapter 22. Blood Scent
Chapter 23. An Unmapped Kingdom
Chapter 24. Holy Guidance
Chapter 25. Irresistible Gateway
Chapter 26. A Helping Hand
Chapter 27. Twice Cursed
Chapter 28. Forgotten Secrets
Chapter 29. An Excellent Recommendation
Chapter 30. Trust
Chapter 31. The Invitation
Chapter 32. Live In Fear
Chapter 33. No Rules or Light of Day
Chapter 34. A Rendezvous Observed
Chapter 35. Not Really a Thief
Chapter 36. Altea, I Love You…
Chapter 37. Thal’s Merry Little Retinue
Chapter 38. Sacrifice
Chapter 39. A Cross to Bear
Chapter 40. Yield or Die
Chapter 41. No Solace
Chapter 42. Ten Little Points
Chapter 43. The Side of the Law
Chapter 44. Hunted
Chapter 45. Deserved and Undeserved
Chapter 46. Hunter and Healer
Chapter 47. He Bids Thee Come
Chapter 48. Three More Fugitives
Chapter 49. The Joyous Place
Excerpt from Journey of the Hunted
Excerpt from Rys Rising: Book I
Other fantasy novels by Tracy Falbe
Werewolves in the Renaissance series
Journey of the Hunted: Book 2
Rys Rising series
Rys Rising: Book I
Savage Storm: Book II
New Religion: Book III
Love Lost: Book IV
The Rys Chronicles series
Union of Renegades: Book I
The Goddess Queen: Book II
Judgment Rising: Book III
The Borderlands of Power: Book IV
Find all novels in multiple formats at www.braveluck.com.
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.
Chapter 1. Water and Blood
“I’ll show them the Devil’s own magic,” Gretchen snarled.
She held a sapling while she caught her breath. Her legs were shaking. The incline was defeating her old knees. Many years had passed since she had run up and down hills, and this would surely be the last time.
Her pursuers were crossing the pasture at the bottom of the hill. Her path across the thick grass was easy to see because her skirt had wiped the sparkling dew away. The sun rising behind the four men cast their shadows across her tracks. Two burly dogs pulled at their leashes.
Gretchen had been fleeing since the middle of the night when a line of torches had come up the weedy lane to her cottage. She dreaded when the dogs would bring her down. She wished they would maul her to death right here and leave her body on the fragrant Earth, but the men would pull the dogs off and take her away to even worse torments and burning death.
Gasping for breath, she watched her pursuers disappear into the coppiced woods at the bottom of the hill. She hauled herself up by the sapling and forced her creaking legs to run again. She knew where she was going. She had a secret place back in these hills.
In former days she had lived in secret places where magic was still strong and the world unsullied by the careless tread of ignorant men. She had been young then and known love and learned of powers that tapped into primal mysteries with open eyes. The nonsense magic her judges attributed to her was nothing compared to what she knew and what she had done.
Her heart thudded and her vision blurred. When she fell, her spine rattled, but she sprang back up and ran onward. She reached the top of the hill and started skidding down the other side.
The trees were old on this side of the hill. They were just far enough from the needy axes of village and town. Gretchen felt the spirits of the thick-trunked oaks swell against her flesh. She tripped again and twisted her ankle. Pain flared, but madly she limped toward the granite boulders jutting from the dark leafy humus farther downhill. Finally she flopped against the mossy stone. Even in her frantic state, she noticed a cluster of mushrooms in the shadow of a boulder. Their peculiar caps told of another cold spring.
The baying dogs slapped her mind away from its habitual cataloging of the land. She slid around the cool boulders until her feet splashed into a tiny spring. Above the pure water Gretchen brushed the leaves and dirt out of a cleft in the rock. Her dirty fingers found a silver box. Blackish corrosion crusted the metalwork. Her shaking hands cracked open the box that she had left here when she was a much younger woman.
She gasped at the lock of hair within. A rush of memories overtook her mind. The curving tuft of reddish brown hair with fine streaks of black and
silver summoned vividly her son’s face. He had looked at her so trustingly when she had snipped the hair on their last day together.
“To remember you by,” she had whispered, and he had believed her.
He had thought that he was going to the forest forever, beyond the reach of all, but Gretchen had plotted a way to bring him back to her.
Despite her selfish trick, she had resisted the longings of a mother’s heart and not summoned him. She had lived her life and grown old, but now…
Voices were at the top of the hill. The dogs barked insistently. Their paws pounded down the slope and vibrated with her doom.
Tears wetted Gretchen’s cheeks. She was afraid, not of death but of the brutality that would bring it. She should leave her son free and not trouble him with the wickedness of her nasty world, but she wanted to lash out and not only for herself but for the dear friends who had died so terribly. Her name had been dragged across their lips in the butcher shop of authority.
When she bent over the pool, a tear fell into the glistening spring water. The spell would be all the stronger for it.
“Forgive me, Thal, but I would have them know my justice,” Gretchen said.
She dipped the lock of hair into the water.
“From the birth waters of our Earthly womb,” she murmured reverently.
The hair darkened in her wet fingers. She drew a knife and slashed across her wrist. Gushing blood obscured the meat and vessels beneath the skin. Blood flowed over her hand and pooled in her palm and soaked the hair.
“From the birth blood of the woman who bore thee, I call my son to me! Thal!” Gretchen cried and the dogs hit her.
Jaws gripped her upper arm. Another set of happy fangs dove for an ankle. She was thrown down. Water splashed. The animals tore at her and shook her. She cowered in the most useless shock, screaming.
Boots muddied the delicate ground along the spring. Grungy men in leather waded into the clean water. Deep-voiced cursing and grunting mixed with the dogs’ snarling. When the animals were finally hauled off, half her clothes were ripped away. The snapping servants back in the grip of their grim masters chomped triumphantly on the remnants.
Two men flung her blood smeared body against the boulder.
A dour man with a narrow face and a lanky height loomed over Gretchen. A heavy black cloak encased his shoulders and the pendant of the Prague Court hung over his chest, shining with his right to abuse her.
“Holy Christ protect us from this Devil bride,” he said.
Her brazen misery disgusted him. “You make us chase you till dawn and add to your sins with a try at suicide,” he criticized.
“More proof she seeks the Devil’s favor,” another man put in.
“That it is,” the tall man agreed and yanked out a handkerchief. He wound the pitiful bandage around her bleeding wrist and tied it tight against her scarlet defiance.
“What’s in your hand, witch?” he demanded upon noticing her clenched fingers. He pried open her hand and pulled out the redly sodden tuft of hair. Gretchen moaned.
The gathered men gasped when he lifted the odd find. “Fur pulled from the very back of your goat lover,” he said, almost in awe.
Gretchen shook her head desperately and struggled.
“Constable, look,” a man said and held up the tarnished box.
“Give that to me,” the leader said. He looked over the box but could determine no meaning from it. He put the lock of hair into it and pressed the lid back in place. He knew someone who paid coin for such rare objects.
“No!” Gretchen yelled.
He struck her across the face. “Bind her mouth before she speaks some spell upon us,” he said.
Chapter 2. Humanity
The wolf lifted his head. His pack mates dozed around him comfortably, except for the alpha male. His long legs and thick paws were twitching. The mighty pack leader grunted. His lips pulled back and revealed heavy canines.
The loyal subordinate watched with growing concern. The alpha’s legs jerked harder. His head tossed. The other wolves awoke and blinked in the morning sun that warmed the meadow outside their den. They stared at their alpha male and then got up and sniffed toward him cautiously. The alpha female came out from the den, her teats swollen with milk. She licked his face. He grunted and then rolled away in a twisting seizure. His family circled him nervously.
A raven flew into a tall pine and screeched. The wolves glanced up at the dark sentinel whose abrasive voice warned of an intruder.
The alpha male writhed across the ground, tearing up the grass. The other wolves whined around him. With eyes rolling back, he flailed his legs. Garbled howls tumbled clumsily from his throat. His body distorted. The wolves jumped back. His howls turned to rasping screams.
He raised his paws over his face and rolled into a ball. The raven screamed. A strong wind blew through the trees from nowhere. The wolves fled into the den, except for the alpha female. She lowered her head and whimpered as the body of her mate changed. Fur fell away. Smooth flesh bulged with muscles. His tail retracted into his spine. Claws evaporated and soft naked fingers grew out. Painful yowling accompanied the wrenching transformation of the face. The snout and powerful jaws shrank. The back legs curled under his torso and then burst into new legs and feet.
At last his tortured screams ended, but the revered alpha male was gone. A man, naked save for an old wolf hide across his loins, lay shivering upon the disturbed ground.
He touched his face. For a long time he stared in disbelief at his hands with his many colored eyes. Then he ran his hands up his smooth arms. Each prickle of the relatively tiny hairs against his palms puzzled him with the absence of his luxurious coat. He brushed his fingers over his head. Here remained fur but the texture was different. He had hair.
He met the alpha female’s eyes. Understanding remained but a gulf had opened between them. She tilted her head sadly, wondering at the alteration of her mate. The wind gradually quieted and the other wolves ventured out. They snarled and rushed forward to attack the man because all men were traitorous brothers, but the female intercepted them. Reluctantly the pack heeded her call to patience. With her tail up she padded toward the man while her pack growled unhappily.
The man reached out to her but when he saw the five-fingered evidence of his humanity he pulled his hand back. He looked down, knowing he was unworthy of her. How could he provide for her now? He was just a naked man in the forest.
Gradually she came closer. Her moist black nose sniffed at his altered scent. She sensed the agony of his heart and knew it was breaking because of her.
Her gentle whines were the essence of empathy as she edged closer. When the man looked into her eyes again, he wished he could give her an explanation.
She licked his cheek. He buried his face in her soft fur. She tensed against the alien feel of his arms but did not pull away.
The man tried to speak to her, but his throat and lips made erratic sounds and the attempt flung his mind into confusion. When she finally slipped out of his clinging arms, he looked at the pack. The guarded expressions on their familiar once-trusting faces terrified him.
Nervous little yips came from the den entrance. His pups! The man jumped up. When he came so abruptly to his full height, the wolves growled and the hair went up on their necks. The pups, sensing the alarm, hung back in the shadowy hole.
Unable to believe that his pack would harm him, the man took a step toward the den, but the alpha female jumped into his path. She doubled in size as every bit of fur lifted. She was majestic in her fury. Never had she defied him like this, and the man admired her power anew.
He knew why she blocked his way. No man must ever come near the pups. Men were death. Merciless hunters. Beasts without reason. Best to snoop only on the fringes of their mad domain than seek again the kinship of joint dominion of the land. A pup allowed to be curious about a man might ignore the elders’ hard lessons of caution and be killed. Or worse yet, trapped by some circus traveler
and thrown alone into a bear pit.
These awful truths twisted his guts and churned the raw meat he had feasted upon in the night. Sickened, he ran across the meadow and collapsed against a pine tree.
His former pack mates spread out around the den. The alpha female threw back her head and howled. Her lingering notes sang of apology. She would not let him enter the den, but she regretted the pain it caused him. The rest of the pack howled with her. Their sadness drew tears from the man. When the salty drip reached his lips, the taste forced him to recall his humanity. He had been a man once. Memories fluttered into focus. Images of people peeked into the blankness of his mind.
But how could he be a man? He had been given a choice, and he had chosen.
He clutched his head. The wolf music spoke to him. He heard their dismay but could give no proper response to reassure them.
Slumping to the ground, he petted the old wolf skin that had remained at his side after the transformation. Turning it over, he gasped. Dark designs were painted on the bare leather. Blocks of various shapes were lined up in rows. The alien shapes bombarded his mind. His eyes that were so adept at spotting movement struggled with the bizarre information. Finally, a small block of four little images took shape in his understanding. At the end of the last row, he saw: THAL.
He cried out and folded the fur to cover the lettering.
Thal stayed on his knees for a long time. The tree shadows crossed his body as they moved with the sun. His pack settled protectively around the den and watched him with sad eyes. His alpha female approached again and snuffled the wolf hide in his hands, seeking the scent of her mate. Gently he stroked her long snout and ran his hand up her cheek and behind her ears. To touch her this way was soothing to him. She pressed against his rubbing hand. He savored the affection, but his human hand against her silver pepper fur impressed upon him the fact that he was her mate no more. How unfair that some unexpected fate should seize him when she needed him most.
