Werewolf Castle
Tracy Falbe
Werewolf Castle
Werewolves in the Renaissance 3
Tracy Falbe
Werewolf Castle: Werewolves in the Renaissance 3
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Tracy Falbe, all rights reserved
First published 2019 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. 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 years 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 design copyright Tracy Falbe. Stock images used in design are licensed by ShutterStock.com.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Cast
Chapter 1. Two Meetings with the Duke
Chapter 2. Hostility and Caution
Chapter 3. The Doorstep of the Sorcerer
Chapter 4. A Worthy Visitor
Chapter 5. Strange Temptation
Chapter 6. The Way of the Wolf
Chapter 7. Undesirable People
Chapter 8. Bound by Our Knowledge
Chapter 9. Jealousy
Chapter 10. His Master’s Allies
Chapter 11. Acceptance of the Deal
Chapter 12. The Language of Birds
Chapter 13. What Happened in the Woods
Chapter 14. The Gulf That Separates
Chapter 15. Questions
Chapter 16. The Drinking of the Potion
Chapter 17. A Shadow of Elderliness
Chapter 18. Wolfmen Attack
Chapter 19. A Person Known to You
Chapter 20. A Disgraced Noble Lady
Chapter 21. Departure From Vlkbohveza
Chapter 22. A Boorish Brawl
Chapter 23. The Sniper
Chapter 24. Living the Lives of Ten Men
Chapter 25. Crossing the Vah River
Chapter 26. An Offer From the Prosecutor
Chapter 27. Merrymaking in Pressburg
Chapter 28. Warnings of the Warlock
Chapter 29. In the Banker’s House
Chapter 30. A Hostage
Chapter 31. Angels’ Kisses
Chapter 32. Door to Door
Chapter 33. Let Stout Men Follow Me
Chapter 34. Mikulas
Chapter 35. The Wishing Well of the Damned
Chapter 36. Look Into the Pool
Chapter 37. Black Ruins by Dawn
Chapter 38. Old Resentment
Chapter 39. Into the Highlands
Chapter 40. His Visions Bled
Chapter 41. The Game of Sorcerers
Chapter 42. Concern for His Kin
Chapter 43. Time for the Sick to Die
Chapter 44. His True Equal
Chapter 45. The Guardian
More Novels by Tracy Falbe
Excerpt from Rys Rising
Thal could not resist this time and looked down. He caught his breath upon seeing two figures standing over him. Their faces shimmered next to his in the water. One was pale and the other the color of shadow. Great elderliness hung over them like clouds on mountains. Frosty patterns etched their delicate skin, and their silvery locks fluttered gently without a breeze. Crowns of translucent leaves and berries encircled their brows. They regarded him with gentle eyes that had witnessed the truth of creation yet were full of lies.
The Cast
Thal Lesky, a werewolf
Altea Kardas, a confessed witch
Regis, singer and harpist of Venice
Raphael, lutist of Venice
Carlo, zink player of Venice
Mileko, protégé of Sarputeen
Sarputeen, sorcerer and father of Thal
Tekax, a sorcerer
Janfelter, an assassin
Emil, servant of Sarputeen
Sir Krengar, a knight of Zilina
Karl Thurzo, Duke of Zilina
Johan, a werewolf
Harvath, a werewolf
Mitri, a werewolf
Ansel, a werewolf
Lenki, a werewolf
Tobias Dorn, a lawyer
Welser, a banker
Trendel, a mercenary
Valentino del Sangoro, a Condottiere
Brother Miguel, a Jesuit monk
Chapter 1. Two Meetings with the Duke
Duke Thurzo watched his advisers file out of his chamber. He had made his decisions, and they would execute them. The tedious details of administering the Captaincy of Transdanubia had been attended to for the time being.
When the door clicked shut, some of the stiffness dissolved from his neck.
Although his meeting had been contentious, as ministers fought over funds and his favor, Thurzo was grateful that the issues had at least been ordinary. Threats lurked his lands. The Ottoman Empire ranged close to his borders, and things he did not understand were afoot.
He looked up at the portrait of his father. That Duke had dealt with dire days indeed when it seemed that Christian Europe would fall. Only desperate measures had maintained the position of his family. He was now left as the ill-funded defender of a vulnerable frontier. The gray that streaked his brown hair was not due to age alone.
His father had told him to expect enemies from without and within. Such was the lot of the powerful.
A raven settled on the stone window sill of his chamber and stared at him. The glass muffled somewhat its impatient croak.
Thurzo scowled. His hand brushed a drawer on his desk without opening it. He wanted to think that the bird’s appearance was a mere coincidence and not related to the secrets that he kept.
He pulled the drapes across the bird’s face. Unlike any superstitious fishwife down by the river, he did not associate the raven with some vague threat. He knew exactly what it meant. He had unfinished business, and the one to whom he owed a debt had apparently grown impatient.
A knock at the door interrupted his ruminations. “Enter,” Thurzo said and drew himself up as he always did when engaging with someone.
“My Duke,” said his secretary upon entering. “Forgive the disturbance.”
“But you have a good reason,” Thurzo said to finish the apology.
The secretary inclined his head. “A Jesuit Brother wishes to have an audience.”
Annoyed, Thurzo said, “What reason have I to meet with some monk?”
The secretary proffered a piece of parchment. The quality of the stationery and the weight of the broken seal clinging to it told of its importance.
The secretary said, “This monk bears a letter of introduction from the Archbishop of Prague.”
“Ah, yes, Prague has a new Archbishop,” the Duke muttered. By habit, he headed to the window for more light to ready by before belaying the action. Instead he held the letter at arm’s length and managed as best that he could.
To Karl Thurzo, Duke of Zilina, Primary Administrator of the Captaincy of Transdanubia,
As a man of your faith has surely noticed with considerable pride, the Archbishopric of Prague has been gloriously reestablished by our Lord God and the efforts of his Holiness.
I expect that you should be well
aware of the recent attacks upon agents of Holy Mother Church, the City of Prague, and the Empire by the forces of the Devil. The witch burnings this spring that were meant to cleanse the city instead drew out a magical enemy of the greatest evil, the very son of Lucifer himself by the accounts of those who survived. I, of course, speak of the one sought by Church and Empire who is known by the name Thal Lesky.
I have sent my agent, Brother Miguel of the Society of Jesus, to converse with you about the important matter of the capture and destruction of this supernatural criminal and heretic. I ask that you meet with him personally and confidentially and fulfill what requests he may ask of you regarding this matter.
May God Save Your Soul,
Antonín Brus, Archbishop of Prague
Thurzo locked his face into ducal neutrality to conceal his dread from his secretary, but tension twisted his gut. Although he trusted his secretary with his official correspondence, he disliked that the secretary had seen the name of the notorious werewolf in the letter. He would have preferred not to expose his man to that information, but he had not anticipated that evidence of Thal’s presence might cross his desk so soon. His household still gossiped and speculated about the visitors who had slipped in and out of his care mere weeks ago.
Thurzo looked to his secretary for a reaction. The man looked down.
“So what does this Brother Miguel say of Thal Lesky?” Thurzo asked. He gestured flippantly as he said the name of the werewolf to indicate some contempt for the concept of his existence.
“Nothing, my Duke. He insisted on speaking only with you. I examined his letter and deemed it worthy of your attention,” the secretary said.
“Quite right. I can’t ignore letters from our Church Fathers as they do in the damnable north of the Empire,” Thurzo said. “See that this Brother is refreshed. I’ll summon him shortly.”
******
After taking a nap, Thurzo directed his secretary to bring Brother Miguel. As they approached his door, Thurzo opened the drapes and looked for the raven. The bird was absent, but he closed the drapes again anyway.
He settled in behind the broad expanse of his polished oak desk just as the monk was let in. Thurzo waved his secretary out.
The monk bowed to him and waited to be addressed. Thurzo studied him. He had the look of a man who had been well fed but was now losing weight. He wore a brown robe and cloak. A silver crucifix hung from his neck. The glittering Christ appeared ostentatious for a simple Jesuit. A bulging leather satchel dragged on his shoulders with evident weight.
“Please sit, Brother Miguel,” Thurzo invited.
“You’re most kind, Duke Thurzo,” Miguel said. He took a seat and glanced around the gloomy room.
Thurzo prompted him, “As the Archbishop requested, I am seeing you privately. You’ll agree that I am extending you quite a privilege.”
“Oh, yes, truly,” Miguel said. He met the Duke’s eyes but then looked down. He plucked at his robe before gathering his courage and looking up again. “Before I begin, I ask that you forgive the sensitive nature of what I’m about to say.”
Thurzo flicked the letter on the desk with a finger and said, “Something about Thal Lesky,” he said.
Miguel winced, and Thurzo judged that the subject truly pained the monk.
Miguel cleared his throat and said, “Duke Thurzo, I have tracked that most infamous of shape shifters to your door.” He paused to let the statement settle in. Thurzo surmised that the Jesuit had some training in interrogation, but this nervous cleric would get no secrets from a Duke.
Unimpressed with the monk’s news, Thurzo said, “I’ve seen the wanted notices about this man. Stories of his exploits have crossed the Empire. The common folk now think every dog fight in the night is a werewolf attack.”
“Duke Thurzo, I assure you that I am skilled at distinguishing between the chatter of foolish peasants and credible reports. Thal Lesky came to Zilina. I’ve confirmed that there are musicians in your household known to have been his companions.”
“Duchess Agatha recently acquired new players from Venice, but I assure you they could not possibly be involved in dark magic, monsters, or heresy. They are only a threat to my wine stores,” Thurzo said.
“May I speak with them?” Miguel said.
“As you wish, if you can find them. I know not their habits, except they sleep much during the day,” Thurzo said. He was well aware of the musicians who had arrived with Thal and stayed on at the behest of his wife. The Duke was confident that they would not divulge anything of interest to the inquisitive Jesuit.
Miguel felt quite certain that Thurzo’s lack of concern was a deception, and he dared to speak more boldly. “I must ask if you understand how much this matter concerns the Church as well as the Emperor?” Miguel pressed.
Thurzo steepled his hands and looked over his fingers at the monk. “It’s long been impressed upon me how much the Church and Empire rely upon me to deter the Turkish menace at our border. That is where my resources are directed at all times. Monsters that may or may not be real have not been my concern or my duty.”
“Thal Lesky is real! Let me detail his monstrous acts. He changes into the form of a wolfman at will. I saw him rip apart good men. He murdered my mentor and deprived Christendom of a great man who had devoted himself to the eradication of heresy,” Miguel said. He was breathing harder when he finished.
“So you mean to avenge your mentor,” Thurzo said.
Miguel wanted to proclaim a higher purpose, but he conceded that no small portion of personal animosity motivated him.
“And what makes you think that Thal Lesky came to Zilina?” Thurzo asked.
Miguel leaned closer and said, “My investigations have revealed a rumor that one of your vassals is known to be a sorcerer.”
“Now I am beset by a sorcerer and a werewolf,” Thurzo said with a chuckle. “I never would have suspected that the Archbishop would demand my time so that you might spin yarns for me like a playful auntie.”
Miguel ignored Thurzo’s breezy attitude and said, “Tell me about this man who holds the castle known as Wolf God Tower, or Vlkbohveza in the vernacular.”
“You are a most learned man,” Thurzo complimented. “It is true that some call Lord Sarputeen a worker of magic, but he is known to my family as a man who rallied troops against the Turks. My father rewarded him with a castle, but it was hardly a princely gift. This Vlkbohveza is nothing more than a remote outpost that oversees a passel of inbred mountain people. No one even knows why the fortress was built or when. And Lord Sarputeen must be so old now as to be near death,” Thurzo said.
“I suspect that this castle was the destination of Thal when he fled Prague. I’ve spoken to people who saw a man fitting his description who was bound for the Tatras Mountains. When I learned of this sorcerer, I surmised that this place must be the source of Thal’s wickedness and therefore his home,” the monk said.
“If you find him and require my assistance, my men will be at your disposal,” Thurzo offered brightly.
“Of course,” Miguel agreed, excited by the offer of resources. “I shall need an escort of men to guide me to this Vlkbohveza.”
Concern rippled through Thurzo, mostly for the monk but somewhat for himself. He felt that he should divert this Jesuit from the halls of Sarputeen, yet he needed to appear cooperative to Church authority.
“Why don’t you look for Thal here?” Thurzo proposed, confident that no werewolf would be found in Zilina.
“I already have, and he is not in the city. Not any longer,” Miguel said, frustrated by the fading tracks of his quarry. He continued, “None of the signs are present in the city. Loyal dogs do not whimper and disobey their masters, and no incidents of witchcraft have plagued your good people.”
Thurzo shook his head. “No witchcraft here,” he said proudly.
“Therefore I must follow my idea that Thal sought out this Sarputeen. God has revealed through my studies that his name is associated with da
rk magic. How is that your family takes no heed of this?” His eyebrows arched accusingly, as if the whole force of Church power stood behind him.
“You’ve been exposed to stories of old days when he fought the Turks. They attribute magic to him because of his courage in battle. We Thurzos know differently. He is a good man on the side of Christendom, I assure you,” Thurzo said, and a lifetime at the helm of power enabled him to speak such words with conviction and little guilt.
“Yet, I must investigate this matter. I’ll go to the gates of Hell to rid the world of this werewolf,” Miguel said.
Thurzo asked, “And if you find this Thal, what shall you do? You told me yourself of his powers to kill men. I believe I recall from the wanted notices that he resists even the balls of guns.”
“My brothers and I shall pray to counteract his magic, and the men you provide will fight this evil with us,” Miguel said.
Thurzo doubted his men would throw themselves into the fight with the fervor of this monk. His people had the sense not to tread upon the territory of Sarputeen with ill intent. Local superstition guarded that old man with more strength than the highest walls.
“To aid you in your mission, Brother Miguel, I must be honest and say that you should not waste time seeking out this mountain retreat of an elderly warrior,” Thurzo said sincerely hoping to steer the monk away from harm.
