Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale by Tracy Falbe

features.
    “He’ll find me waiting for him,” Thal
said.
    “By yourself?” she criticized. “Stop your
foolishness. Flee with us. We’ll get away and be laughing about the
story around the fire soon enough,” Emerald said.
    “I have to delay him so you can get away,”
Thal said.
    “One pistol won’t be enough for that,” she
argued.
    “I shall see,” Thal said thoughtfully as his
mind strayed down a path toward the far off forgotten magic of
hunters long long ago.
    Andreli rushed up to Emerald. “I need you to
get the families moving now. Take the old road straight south.
We’ll make for Austria,” he said.
    Emerald nodded and hollered to two lads to
get her sagging old draft horse harnessed. The beast looked ready
to spend its final years at pasture, but instead would haul a wagon
into mountains.
    Catching Andreli’s arm, Emerald said, “Our
friend here thinks he’ll stay to fight off the castle guards.”
    Andreli rolled his eyes at Thal’s juvenile
chivalry. His nod to Emerald told her that he would take care of
her precious guest. She gave Thal a hug and told him not to be
stupid. Then she got her wagon going so she could start the
procession away.
    Proud of his people for their swift reaction,
Andreli had some hope that they would get away unscathed.
Experience had taught him to camp a certain distance away from
local authorities.
    Sternly to Thal he said, “So you think that
you’re going to shoot your new pistol?”
    “I think I’ll have to,” Thal said.
    “You’ve got three lead balls and no
experience. How is that going to stop Jan and twenty of his
henchmen? Be reasonable. I know it’s hard for a young man, but you
must flee,” he advised.
    “I must make sure you’re not pursued,” Thal
said.
    Admittedly Thal’s bravery impressed him, but
Andreli still said, “Thal, you can’t kill any of them. You’ll be
condemned by the Rosenbergs. They could send word near and far of
your crime and make you a fugitive. If they catch you, they’ll hang
you. Don’t try to fight. It’s not worth it.”
    “But he can threaten to burn your things? Why
doesn’t the law protect you too?” Thal challenged.
    “Laws do not apply to Gypsies in positive
ways,” Andreli said. The injustice of it was dull to him. Coping
with reality was the concern.
    Thal considered the potential of being
declared a murderer and understood that he would have to be
careful. “He’s coming for me to take the pistol and probably my
fur. If I go with your people, he might keep chasing. If I stay to
defend your retreat, he’ll have little motive to follow you,” he
said.
    “You may be right,” Andreli murmured as he
watched wagons and carts lurch away surrounded by men and women
bent beneath heavy packs. Medina trotted by leading a milk cow with
bags tied across its bony back and a bawling calf in tow. He had to
think about the welfare of the group, but guilt on Thal’s behalf
nagged at him.
    “Don’t blame yourself. I got you into
gambling with that ass. I should’ve stopped that nonsense about the
fur and pistol,” Andreli admitted.
    Thal drew his new pistol. “Give me another
lesson on loading this and then go,” he said.
    Andreli sighed as if he were disappointed in
himself. “Come let’s get my pistol. I can’t leave you here alone.
You haven’t any more sense than a tree. Now that I think about it,
we could shoot a few balls over their heads and scare them back.
Jan won’t be expecting it, I promise you that,” he said.
    Thal grinned. He welcomed a companion in the
face of danger.
    Andreli’s wagon was the last to leave with
Petro at the reins. Gerling had been willing to stay as well, but
Andreli wanted at least one firearm to stay with the group.
    They followed the wagon until they reached a
quiet crossroads south of the river. Large trees stretched their
boughs over the narrow old road, making it a dark tunnel into the
hills. The last of the Gypsies slipped away and a pregnant quiet
overtook