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

men gathered behind Jan, he saw one
rider raise a pistol at him. Thal resisted glancing toward Andreli.
He had scared back the dogs so they would forget his hidden
companion. He hoped that Andreli was taking his chance to slip
away.
    “I’ll be needing my pistol back,” Jan
said.
    Thal tossed it onto the road. He considered
again what he was about to do. What would actually happen he was
not sure. He was counting on the half remembered magic of what his
father had done.
    “Give up that Devil’s hide to me and maybe
I’ll let you run off after your worthless friends,” Jan
offered.
    Thal pulled the fur from his shoulders and
held it out like bait. “Why do you think it is of the Devil?” he
asked.
    Jan chuckled darkly. “Don’t play a fool. You
know what you are. God will tolerate your secret rites no more. The
Jesuits told us to be on the watch for warlocks and Devil
worshippers and their sick charms,” he said.
    “I worship no Devil,” Thal insisted proudly
although an egg of doubt hatched in his heart. What had he been
doing with his father? What else would people call it?
    “Throw down the fur or we’ll shoot you like a
mad dog right here in the dirt,” Jan said, growing impatient. His
man with the pistol came forward menacingly.
    “What if my Devil protects me from bullets?”
Thal asked cockily. His body felt hot. Sweat ran down his back. The
moonlight cast heavenly brightness upon his enemies.
    “Shoot the dog,” Jan ordered.
    “You’ll not kill a man for his only
possession!” Andreli cried. He sprang out of the bushes and fired
his gun.
    The horses screamed and bucked until their
riders brought them under control. The dogs slunk back farther,
wanting nothing to do with the situation. The man about to shoot
Thal was spooked into pulling the trigger, and his ball shot off
wildly over Thal’s head.
    But another man farther back in the group
pulled a pistol and shot Andreli. The powder flash in the night was
followed by a sharp scream. Andreli stumbled back clutching his
shoulder. His pistol fell to the road.
    Thal gasped. Panic ambushed his stout
resolve. He had gotten Andreli shot! The horror of that consequence
maddened him. He hated his rotten judgment. He should not have let
Andreli stay with him, but the temptation for help had been
irresistible. He did not want to be alone. Now he must fight to
help Andreli.
    “You weary me,” Jan huffed. He got off his
horse and drew a sword. His men pressed closer on their horses.
Thal retreated a few steps from Jan’s lifted blade.
    “There’s only the cleansing fire for you
now,” Jan said.
    Thal raised his voice and began to recite the
words written on his fur that he had memorized. Unlike his hushed
tones of practice, he intoned each word with the full force of his
voice and the mysterious meanings of the unknown words resonated
with the unseen primeval forces of the world.
    He pulled the fur around his hips and kept
reciting the spell. He did not have to think about it. The words
were swelling out of his being as easily as he had once howled his
songs with his pack.
    Jan’s draw dropped as he beheld the
transformation. In the space of a few heartbeats, Thal’s body
rejoined with his wolf spirit. His clothing ripped and fell away as
his body swelled with muscles and its shape distorted into a beast
man. Fur magically covered his powerful body. Once again he felt
the chomping confidence of long powerful jaws instead of a soft
small mouth. Heavy claws armed his hands and feet. And most
pleasing of all was the return of his tail that stiffened with
aggression.
    Thal leaped forward onto all fours. His
padded paw hands met the road and his legs were filled with the
familiar animal power that had propelled him on hunts for many
years. He charged Jan who hacked sloppily with his sword. Thal
dodged the blade, grabbed the man around the torso, and hurled him
off the road against a tree. His head bashed the trunk and he
slumped to the ground.
    Then Thal