Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale by Tracy Falbe Page A

the two men who stayed behind. The moonlight brightened
the monastery on the hill overlooking the river. The straight lines
of the church tower confronted the soft infinity of the mystical
light. The bells had stopped ringing, but a line of torches was on
the road coming from the direction of Rosenberg castle.
    Thal tracked the torchlight as it blinked in
and out from behind trees. Thal whirled when he heard the soft paws
of an animal pattering down the road behind him. Out of the shadows
emerged the short dog that had befriended him.
    He bent to pet him. The soft short fur on its
brown and white head soothed his nerves. “Go on. Catch up to your
friends,” Thal said and gestured up the road.
    “It seems Gerling’s dog prefers you now,”
Andreli remarked.
    Thal scratched the dog’s ears. “You’re a good
boy, but go on.” After a gentle shove the dog retreated back up the
road.
    Thal checked his pistol. He had been warned
that the wheel lock was notoriously unreliable. Andreli did the
same and then said, “We shouldn’t stand in the middle of the road.
Let’s get over by that thicket. We can fire from there and then
slip into the woods. If they keep going we can sneak along the road
and shoot at them again. But remember we’re just trying to scare
them. Don’t kill anybody.”
    “Yes,” Thal agreed.
    When they could hear the riders approaching,
Thal leaned out of the brambles. He could see the dark figures on
the road. His nostrils twitched to judge the situation.
    “They have dogs,” he said.
    To affirm his statement, their baying
began.
    “Dogs!” Andreli cried, aghast. He had not
thought that Jan would break out the hunting dogs. Trying to spook
the castle guards from a hidden position was pure folly now.
    Thal moved out of the thicket. Andreli
grabbed for his sleeve but the young man pulled away.
    “What are you doing?” Andreli hissed.
    “I’m about to get some practice that won’t be
a waste of powder,” Thal answered.
    The barking intensified and the hounds
sprinted ahead of the horses. Thal’s keen eyes provided sharp
detail in the silvery light. The big fangs of the lead dog gleamed
with ivory malice. Its fat tongue flapped with spittle. Its claws
tore into the road. The thundering hulks of other hounds were close
behind.
    Thal raised his pistol and set aside his
fear. This was not the first time he had joined in combat with a
fierce animal, and this domesticated beast was not going to be the
end of him.
    The hound leaped at him like a stone hurled
by a catapult. Thal discharged his pistol. The powder flashed. The
bang vibrated at the end of his arm like a miniature thunderstorm.
The ball hit inside the dog’s open mouth and its head blew out the
back in a bloody spray of brains and fur. Its body skidded to a
stop at Thal’s feet.
    The next dog, crazy with the hunt, leaped at
Thal. He bashed its head with a hard sweep of his smoking pistol.
The clubbing force of his steely arm crunched its skull.
    When the third dog attacked, he ducked. The
dog sailed over him and he rose from his squat and caught it across
the stomach with his shoulder. Reaching up with his free hand, he
seized its throat and hurled it against the charging pack.
    Flaring with savage intensity, Thal screamed
at his attackers. The dogs ceased their eager barking and lowered
their heads. Whimpering and confused, they retreated with the sharp
tang of their alpha’s spilled blood in their noses.
    The riders arrived and the men were confused
by the wave of hunting dogs slinking behind their horses. They saw
Thal still standing in the road. Two dark heaps were spread upon
the threshold of his defiance.
    Undeterred by the unexpected weirdness, Jan
moved forward on a fine destrier, its chest lathered from the long
run. His armor gleamed faintly beneath his bearded face, and his
rich voice was filled with victory.
    “Having fun with my pistol?” he said.
    Thal itched to reload, but he supposed it was
futile. Glancing among the