Werewolf Castle

By Tracy Falbe

Thal has found refuge from werewolf hunters and assassins at the castle of his father, Sarputeen. Although the mountain fortress on the eastern fringe of the Holy Roman Empire shields him for the moment, he knows the peace can’t last.

His father counsels war against his old rival who sent servants to murder Thal. But first, Thal must increase his power and that means making a pack. To obtain men to make werewolves, Sarputeen calls in an old debt from the local duke.

The thought of giving others the werewolf magic troubles Thal. He knows that they will be forever bound to him as obedient killers. They will never have normal lives again. Despite his qualms, he is troubled most by the supernatural fext who can heal from all wounds. This foul assassin serves the sorcerer Tekax, and Thal cannot dare to battle them without more werewolves at his side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracy Falbe
• Release date: Oct 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463600238

Tracy Falbe

I have been hooked on fantasy and science fiction since preschool when I watched Star Trek the Original Series with my family on TV. Then came Star Wars at the theater when I was 5, and a few years later, I discovered the joys of reading fantasy with the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings.The elements I like most about the genres are the high stakes (save the world, overthrow the empire, etc.), the diversity of characters, and how magic or extraordinary technology allows plots to expand in interesting ways. The ability of fantasy and sci fi to include analysis and criticisms of social conditions like religion and politics is especially fascinating as well. When this is done in conventional fiction, people and readers descend into arguments about whether an opinion is valid or the historical information is accurate instead of assessing the concepts themselves.Of course, fantasy and sci fi can just be fun as well. I love a good hero or heroine and villains can be the best of all. And there is something therapeutic about picking up a sword or blaster and solving the problems of the world.My taste in genre has inevitably married itself to my love of writing. For some reason I am a person capable of writing novels. The act of creating thousands of pages of fiction does not overwhelm me. Making it a good work of fiction is the hard part that requires countless hours of editing and rewriting and lots of daydreaming too.When I'm not writing, my other passions include cooking, growing food, reducing my plastic waste, raising rabbits, spinning wool, and reading.

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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 dark 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.

The will of God sets my course, Duke Thurzo. I trust that you shall prepare men to accompany me at your soonest convenience, Miguel said.

His bossy tone irked the Duke, but he supposed that the Archbishop had infected the monk with the blessings of authority. Leaving him to his business was the easiest way of coping with the irritation.

My resources have and always will be at the disposal of Christendom, Thurzo declared. He extended a hand toward the door. You may see yourself out, Brother Miguel.

The Jesuit bowed and thanked the Duke for his time.

******

Night fell over the palace, and Thurzo watched servants light the braziers in the courtyard below his balcony. From his private wing, he could see men and women gathering in the hall on the other side of the courtyard. All the doors were thrown open and glittering candelabras gilded the rosy interior where the musicians tuned their instruments. Friends of Duchess Agatha and her ladies in waiting mingled with courtiers and visitors.

The Duke rarely joined his wife at her social affairs. The mostly trivial intrigues of her guests did not warrant his attention. If anyone revealed anything of import, then his wife would tell him.

He swirled his goblet of red wine and took a deep breath of the chilly evening air. Dry and sunny days had allowed the warmth of summer to linger during the day, but at night the frosty harbinger of winter flirted with the land as seriously as courtiers flirted with maids at the party.

The musicians started playing, and people clapped. Thurzo drank more wine and leaned on the balcony railing to listen. The Venetians blended a charming sound from the lute, zink, and harp. The singer’s nimble fingers danced effortlessly, like fairies around a spring, but it was his fine voice that truly beguiled his audience. Even the demands of governance slipped from Thurzo’s mind for a bit as the graceful tenor sang of love and adventure.

When Brother Miguel and his three Jesuit companions interrupted the performance, Thurzo shared in the displeasure of his wife’s guests. The Duke heard everyone moan unhappily. He observed the Duchess demanding an explanation for the intrusion, but she gave into whatever it was that Miguel demanded.

The Jesuit took aside each musician one by one. Even at a distance, Thurzo noted the discomfort of his players. But the body language of Brother Miguel showed no satisfaction either.

Eventually, the Jesuits left the hall. The musicians resumed their performance. If they had been shaken by the brief interrogation, their playing did not suffer for it.

Thurzo retreated to his study. He set his wine goblet on the fireplace mantle and then roused the flames with a poker. He doubted Brother Miguel had learned anything useful from the musicians. As far as Thurzo could tell, loyalty defined those close to Thal. None of the imperial warrants for the werewolf had presented any information based on betrayals or confessions. He wondered how such a beast could invite such devotion. What charm did this notorious werewolf possess that made others hide him? Even Thurzo had done his part to spirit Thal out of Zilina because of his obligations to Sarputeen.

But Thurzo had not met with Thal during the fugitive’s brief stay. He had purposefully avoided it so that he could honestly deny seeing the man.

Regret now condemned his resistance to curiosity. He understood that the Church named the Devil as the source of Thal’s power, but Thurzo pondered the reality of that power more than its source.

A bell sounded at his palace gate. Someone important must have arrived, and Thurzo went back to the balcony to finish his wine. When his manservant tapped at the door, he was not surprised.

Sir Krengar requests an audience, my Duke, the manservant said.

Show him in at once, Thurzo said. He glanced into the courtyard, checking the shadows to make sure no one lurked near his balcony. He shut the door as a precaution anyway.

With the music blocked from without, he listened to the light jingle of Sir Krengar’s spurs as the man approached.

Krengar bowed deeply upon entering. His head was bare because he had handed off his helmet to a squire on his way inside. His chin length locks of brown hair curled slightly and his short beard was neatly trimmed despite being in the field for days. The fire glinted off his armor.

Have you urgent news? Thurzo asked.

Mmmm, Krengar stalled, and his frown showed dissatisfaction. I’ve found no sign of the ensorcelled one in the service of Tekax.

Pray that we never see any sign of that one again if we are to believe what we were told, Thurzo said.

But I have something to report. The one called Emil contacted me, Krengar said.

So soon? Thurzo murmured, surprised that Sarputeen had already sent his man with a new message. Thurzo had barely had any time to react to the first request.

Krengar continued, I thought it unwise to grant him entry to your palace. I bid him wait north of the city. I thought that you might see him if we went falconing at your vineyard estate.

Excellent idea, Thurzo praised. The prospect of an outing before the outright inclemency of winter pleased him. We’ll go tomorrow.

Very good, my Duke, Krengar said.

Thurzo cleared his throat, which the knight knew was a signal that his next statement would be sensitive. Have you made any progress collecting the payment to Sarputeen?

I’ve contacted the jail and the master of a mining crew. I told them to only send fit volunteers, no one old or infirm. I’ll have their responses soon.

I suspect the message born by Emil concerns this, Thurzo said.

I thought the same, Krengar agreed.

A Jesuit from Prague came to visit me today. He intends to go to Vlkbohveza in search of Thal, Thurzo said. He smiled when Krengar’s eyes widened.

I told him I would grant him an escort, Thurzo added.

My Duke… Krengar said on the verge of complaining.

I know, Thurzo said and held up a hand. Prepare men. They need only take the Jesuits there, but tell my men not to enter the castle.

They will hardly need to be told, Krengar remarked.

It remains good to be thorough in the guidance of underlings, Thurzo said.

Truly, my Duke.

Any more to report?

Nay.

Then perhaps you might wish to join Duchess Agatha’s party. Our people like seeing you, Thurzo said.

The champion enjoyed the adulation of Zilina, especially young women dazzled by his strong build and reputation. The folk still grumble about my absence at the harvest joust this season. Perhaps my appearance would reassure them, Krengar said.

Tell them the Turkish menace required your attention more than our games, Thurzo said.

I wish only that the menace was…normal, Krengar commented.

Indeed, the Duke said. Yet we can hope that what sorcery this Tekax plots will occupy Sarputeen and not us.

******

Emil packed up his little camp. He had been staying in a woodland awaiting the arrival of Duke Thurzo. Earlier that morning, he had observed the man and his retinue crossing a pasture beyond a vineyard. Emil had decided to let the Duke enjoy his leisure for a while before intruding, but he could tarry no longer. Sarputeen had tasked him with delivering a message.

Emil brushed dried leaves from the sheep fleece that he had slept on. Its shaggy warmth had been a blessing beneath the frosty stars. He rolled it up and tied it behind the saddle of his horse. A gust of wind clattered the bare limbs of the beech tree above him, and he hoped the weather would stay dry until he finished his errand.

He kicked dirt onto his little campfire and scattered the ash. Next he gathered leaves and sprinkled them over the spot. When he stepped back, his horse playfully nibbled his ear.

Emil laughed. You want me to get going, he said and patted the animal’s flank.

He rehearsed the message Sarputeen had commanded him to recite once more before getting in the saddle. The tall youth swung onto the horse with confidence and grace. He moved out of the woodland and soon spotted a falcon wheeling high in the air. When it dove, it fell like the hammer of a judgmental god. Emil watched the dark blur plunge until trees blocked it from view. He crossed a pasture and a small woodlot that gave way to a marshy area and a big pond. Quacking ducks were settling in on the far side of the water after suffering some disturbance. Emil knew now what had been the object of the falcon’s lightning strike.

The Duke’s group clustered on the high ground. The falcon flapped back to the leather-clad hand of the falconer and a hound trotted into the group with a duck in its jaws.

Emil hoped the thrilling display of predatory power had put the Duke in a good mood. He approached slowly to give everyone a chance to see him. Sir Krengar intercepted him.

Ride with me, Krengar said tersely, and Emil followed him uphill away from the pond. The knight led him on a meandering route. They emerged onto a faint trail littered with fallen leaves. Emil followed at a slow pace until he spotted a lone rider through the bare trees coming up the trail.

Have a care not to waste the Duke’s time, Krengar said.

I expect our meeting to be brief, Emil said. He rode past the knight. Over his shoulder, he added, I appreciate the care you have taken to ensure our privacy.

Krengar narrowed his eyes, annoyed by Emil’s confidence but aware that the young man deserved some respect.

When Emil reached the Duke, he waited for the man to speak first. His cheeks were flushed from the autumn chill. The breeze had dispersed his wisps of gray and brown hair in a spray around the edge of his voluminous felt hat.

Emil, messenger of Sarputeen, Thurzo said.

Emil bowed his head. You honor me by remembering my name, Duke Thurzo, he said.

You’re a memorable young man, Thurzo rumbled and watched for a reaction on the messenger’s face, hoping the flattery would have some effect.

Let’s hear it, Thurzo said finally.

Lord Sarputeen of Vlkbohveza bids you greetings. We have the utmost confidence that you are taking responsibility for the promised payments of your late father. Do forgive our impatience, but we must urge you to provide this final act of compensation with as much haste as possible. We shall assume full responsibility for those you send to us, and we hereby promise that no harm shall come to you or yours from their actions that shall be performed in our service. Emil took a deep breath when he finished and presumed to look fully upon the Duke.

That is all? Your master sends you here just to tell me to hurry up? Barely a month has passed since his request was made, and this business is no easy thing to find volunteers for, unless Sarputeen is being loose with his definition of a volunteer, Thurzo said.

I could not comment on that, my Duke, Emil said.

Is the threat from Tekax so ominous? Does this sorcerer of the Turks move against this land already? Thurzo demanded.

Carefully Emil answered, Lord Sarputeen wishes to act as soon as possible.

Thurzo’s horse snorted as if to express the Duke’s disgust with vague answers. I commend your talent for discretion when discussing the affairs of your lord, Emil. Methinks you to be a young man who could do well for himself if you were ambitious. You could move to Zilina and prove your worth among us here.

The unexpected solicitation by a Duke surprised Emil. That a Duke should regard him so highly made him proud, but, despite his years and remote birth, naivete was not among Emil’s faults. His wits warned him that Thurzo wished only to make him a spy against his master.

My Duke, Vlkbohveza is my home and to its lord I owe my allegiance, he said.

Thurzo envied the purity of such loyalty. The offer stands, Emil, if you should wish to do better for yourself some day. A Duke needs men with heads on their shoulders.

I’m sure my Duke has many fine men at his beck and call, Emil said.

I do well enough, Thurzo said. Gathering his reins, he said, So your Sarputeen had no threats to send? Does he fear I shall not pay?

Lord Sarputeen fears very little, and it is my understanding that his reputation is threat enough to your family, Emil said.

It’s a rare lad who can speak so smoothly, Thurzo thought, still coveting the unexpected competence that had been birthed into Sarputeen’s small flock.

And a Duke fears very little as well, Thurzo rumbled. Listen up, young man, for I have a message for you to take back.

I shall repeat it word for word, my Duke, Emil said.

The collection of the payment is underway. I will send it to Vlkbohveza forthwith upon one condition. He paused to observe the shock upon Emil’s face. The young man could not conceive of imposing a condition upon Sarputeen, but Thurzo was more imaginative. He continued, I would meet first with his son Thal. I must know his heir and see what sort of…man…he is.

I will tell him, Emil said quietly.

Thurzo expected that everyone in Vlkbohveza would think it was a trap, but he was determined to take a measure of the notorious Thal for himself. Thurzo drew his horse alongside Emil and said, I think that you should know that Jesuits requested safe passage to Vlkbohveza. They are already underway. You may want to avoid them on your way home because they are hunting Thal.

A jumble of concerns flashed within Emil’s dark eyes but he said only, You are generous with your information, my Duke.

Indeed. Now take back my message. And if Thal does not meet with me, then I shall not send what your master so keenly desires. If I am to pay my father’s debt, then let the son who shall inherit this boon come forth to ask me for it.

Chapter 2. Hostility and Caution

Thal made love to his wife while the open shutters of their tower chamber swung in strong gusts of mountain wind. Altea arched back her head. Moonlight filled the open window and silhouetted her naked torso. The stony cold swept across their hot bodies. Thal savored the final wild moments of pleasure, and then he gathered her into his arms for final triumphant kiss. The soft bulges of her breasts pressed against his solid chest.

She melted against his overwhelming strength and pulled a glossy wolf fur over her shoulders. She drifted to sleep quickly, safe and content.

In time, he slipped away to the window. Slapping his hands against the frame, he leaned into the raw alpine elements. The sturdy walls of the castle around him might provide a haven, but he belonged to the open land where Nature was at all times tender and dangerous.

He seized the shutters but paused before pulling them shut. From the tower, he peered over a river valley. The moon highlighted the watery ribbon below. The dark bodies of virgin pines crowded the river banks and filled the slopes that ascended into stone and snow. Stars glinted like the eyes of indifferent gods. They watched from a void of the darkest sins.

Thal regarded the full moon. The soaring songs of wolf packs that he had known echoed in his memories. As always, the moon made him feel the itching desire for his magic. But he was in control, unlike other werewolves who were ruled by the lunar cycle.

His life had changed a great deal since the last full moon. When last the night had been so bright, he and his companions had been struggling in the wilds, hunted by the foul agents of Tekax. Thal moved his tongue, recalling the poison that had nearly killed him after he had tasted blood from the loathsome fext.

Despite that trial, he had reached his father and found safety. Since then he had rested, knowing that he must soon go forth and confront Tekax. Briefly he considered what his father said that he must do before they challenged the sorcerer who wanted him dead. Thal shoved that thought away. He was not ready to accept his father’s proposal.

He secured the shutters and returned to the side of his young bride. He fell into a heavy sleep.

Crowing cocks in the courtyard roused him. His stomach growled, and he felt the dawn warming the old stones of the castle.

Altea stirred and wrapped her arms around him. When she opened her eyes and looked into his, she smiled. Shall we stay abed all day again? she murmured.

As you wish, he said and kissed her. Their caresses were lazy as they snuggled beneath warm blankets and his heavy wolf pelt.

We should live the rest of our days in this room, Altea said.

Would you make a prison of our bedchamber? Thal said.

No, she admitted. I should want to venture out eventually, but I…

Thal guessed her heart and gently finished her sentence, But you don’t want our happiness to end.

Memories of many hardships stilled the winds of her joy, and sadness dissolved her smile. The terrors that Thal and she had survived were still too fresh to risk contemplating.

Reminded of his innate responsibility to protect his family, Thal hugged her. He loved the warm bulk of her body against his. She was the female that completed his masculinity. Her spirit mirrored his own. It was why their attraction to each other had been so immediate and inescapable. In the forest, he had taken mates before, but Altea was the first woman who had been his. She made him treasure his humanity.

Thal regretted the suffering that she had endured because of her love for him. He had saved her from the torture chamber but not before wretched beasts of men had left scars upon her beautiful body. He would always carry the guilt.

Troubles come and go, Altea. Enjoy these fine days and persevere through the rest, he advised.

Is that wisdom from your time in the forest? she asked, knowing that he had lived many more years upon the Earth than his handsome young face revealed.

I suppose so, he said. He was only coming to realize how his decades as a wolf had influenced the man that he had become. Unlike so many folk who fretted over sins of the past or judgments in the future, Thal was keenly able to focus on the present.

And so he had indulged in these leisurely days with his new wife, but the fond pleasures of young love were not all that occupied his present. An enemy with a foul servant worked against him even now as he toyed with a golden lock of Altea’s hair.

To reassure her, he said, When we face our enemies, Father and I will prevail."

If only I had some art by which to aid the fight, Altea said.

Yet you still have not asked my father for instruction, Thal said, knowing that she had procrastinated in the request despite her desire for arcane knowledge.

I’m afraid, she admitted. Although Sarputeen was warm and kind to her, the mystery that radiated from him deterred her.

I understand, Thal said. I was young when I went to him and asked for the wolf magic. I don’t know if it’s something I would do as the wiser man that I am now.

Mayhap I am too old to dare such a thing, Altea lamented.

I think you’re still capable of youthful indiscretions, Thal said and his hand moved between her thighs. She accepted his invitation to replace heavy subjects with carnal pleasure.

Later, when they were dressing, he tied the laces on her dress. She flexed her hands while he worked and looked at the scars on her thumbs. Most of the damage from the screws had healed, and she was managing better with tasks that required dexterity. During her long recovery, Thal had aided her with feeding as well but was glad that she could now feed herself. She appreciated his gentle attention, knowing how sincere it was.

After finishing her laces, he went to his dressing table and picked up his knives. One he put in a boot and the other was sheathed at his hip. His falchion and pistols he left on the table for now.

Altea picked up the golden pendant on the table.

Why do you never wear this? she asked.

He took it and turned over the pendant. Runes marked one side, and a wolf stared out balefully from the other.

It’s just one more thing I would have to take off when I change, he said.

Of course, Altea agreed, feeling stupid about her question. She knew that he took great care not to ruin his clothing before shifting into his wolf form.

Besides, he added. I’m not the same person I was when I used to wear this. He remembered his father removing it before working magic upon him in a secret grove long ago. You wear it, he said. She accepted happily, and he placed the cool chain around her neck.

His brown and white dog hopped onto the bed and wagged his skinny tail. Thal scratched Pistol behind the ears.

Tickling the dog’s side, he said, It hasn’t taken you long to fatten up for winter.

Altea, who was brushing her hair, looked over her shoulder. Pistol needs a little meat on his bones, she insisted defensively.

He doesn’t have to hunt his supper here. The cook dotes on him, Thal said.

We’ve all been spoiled. Your father’s people are kind and generous, she said.

They honor Father greatly, Thal said. He had noticed the loyalty of the few villagers who occupied the remote little realm of Sarputeen. They seemed not quite like people in other places. Perhaps they were as people should be if left alone.

Because she was hungry, Altea hastily braided her hair into a single thick coil, so they could go get breakfast. Thal offered her his arm as they went into the hall. Pistol jumped off their bed and scooted ahead. He guided them to the kitchen.

They ate a hearty meal of rye bread and fried pork. As always, Thal heeded the pleading eyes of his little dog and tossed him a chunk of crispy pork fat.

Altea went out to oversee the doings of the servants for she had assumed the role of lady of the house.

Thal sought his father. His intuition told him that he was outside on the cliff, and Pistol knew it too because he sniffed the trail of the elder man’s footsteps that led down a long hall.

At the end of it, Thal pushed open the thick door. The wind blasted in with the bright sunlight. He entered the grove of gnarled pines that clung to the cliff. The land angled down steeply, but the lumpy and twisting roots offered places for his feet as he navigated the rocky promontory.

At the cliff edge, he looked down and saw his father on a lower ledge. He favored this spot for meditation. Thal climbed down to join him, leaving Pistol whining lightly at the top.

Sarputeen was bare chested and seated with a shaggy white wolf fur draped across his lap. His eyes were closed, and the morning sun was full upon his face. The bright light revealed many lines upon his face and glistened upon his freshly shaven scalp.

The gusts blustering against the cliffs seemed unable to rouse the old man. A statue-like poise held his body, and his serene face told of thoughts that went well beyond the limited notions of common men.

Quietly, Thal sat next to him. At length, Sarputeen spoke without opening his eyes. Meditate, he whispered.

Thal nodded and then, somewhat reluctantly, shut his eyes. He understood that his father was trying to help him expand his awareness. Thal had, as yet, no skill for the far-reaching trances of his father. Thal knew that it would take years for him to acquire the arts of sorcery that were the playthings of Sarputeen. Despite his father’s insistence that he might develop his powers beyond that of even his fearsome sire, Thal harbored doubts. He believed that he possessed the potent instincts of his animal self more than the mystical and nearly unfathomable talents of his father.

Yet he tried. The morning passed with only silence between them. Thal’s sense of hearing and smell were filled with a myriad stimuli. He heard air whistling across the wings of birds wheeling over the river and the bleating of livestock around the village. Scents of people, plants, animals, and Mother Earth filled his nostrils, and his sensitive mind sorted them out one by one.

Eventually he tried to feel beyond these surface sensations. He wanted to see the infinite possibilities within the greater whole of existence. Such forces had been bent to the will of his parents when they had made him.

He recalled the time when he had taken flying potion with the secret pagans of Chironef. The memory of his floating awareness aided him now as he sought to expand his mind.

But concerns about his enemies distracted him from the path into higher realms of perception. Foreboding crept up his back with a tingle. Thal reminded himself to trust his feelings. He might be experiencing a proto-vision meant to alert him to danger.

When he could resist no more, he opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. The proximity of the void beyond the ledge shocked him and he pressed back against the cliff.

Sarputeen smiled and patted his son’s leg. His eyes were open, and Thal guessed that his father had emerged from trance some time ago.

Reorienting himself to the physical landscape, Thal leaned out a little. He could smell men and horses on the single lonely track that wound up through the forest to Vlkbohveza.

As if reading his son’s mind, Sarputeen said, From here, it’s easy to catch the scent of anyone coming up the road. Emil approaches.

Although Thal recognized the scent of the young man who served his father, he remained disturbed, uncertain if he felt threatened or angry. He sniffed the air deeply.

There are others upon the road, he said and narrowed his eyes.

Yes. They are not with Emil but not far behind him either, Sarputeen judged. He reached up, and Thal pulled him to his feet. The older man’s knees cracked as he straightened, but his physique still rippled with frightening power.

I…recognize a man among them, Thal growled.

Sarputeen felt the hostility rising within Thal. Who is it?

Thal shook his head in disbelief. It is a Jesuit. One I left alive when others needed to be killed in Prague, he answered.

A Jesuit you say? Then his god makes him bold in the face of your power, Sarputeen said.

The gods of men make them cruel, Thal said, remembering the righteous men who had killed his mother and almost taken Altea too. I must kill them now, he decided.

He turned to climb the cliff, but his father took his arm. Thal, he said soothingly. You’re as impulsive as a silly pup. A few men on my lonely road pose little threat. Emil will be here first. Let us hear what he has to say and then judge how to act.

You’re right, Thal admitted. His hostility receded into caution.

******

If the stark hall barren of furnishings had ever once been a place of banners and lavish feasts, no sign had been left to attest to such a history. A single wide chair upon a slab of stone faced a set of thick wooden doors. Sarputeen sat with Thal and Altea standing at his sides. Their presence stirred his emotions that had grown stale over many lonely years. Old regrets faded, and excitement for the future flared anew because his son had returned, finally endowed fully with his werelord power.

Sarputeen listened to the steps of his young servant coming across the flagstones of the outer hall. His gait was fast, meaning his news was urgent.

A door opened. Emil came in. His cloak flapped from his square shoulders. He took off his hat and went to a knee.

Welcome back, Emil, Sarputeen said. What news do you bring?

The man looked up. His dark brown eyes bounced from Thal to Altea. He still was not used to them. My Lord, I have conveyed your desire to the Duke to make haste fulfilling your request, but…

But? Sarputeen prompted, feeling the unease within his servant.

The Duke said he would send payment only if Lord Thal meets with him first. He said he wanted to know what kind of man he was, Emil explained.

The furrows on Sarputeen’s brow deepened like the stacking clouds of a tempest. His lips twitched as if he might snarl. But instead of making an outburst, he withdrew into his inner world. The old sorcerer stared hard at a distant point, and bloody scenarios twinkled upon the dark waters of his eyes.

Thal felt his own aggressions stir because of his father’s simmering anger, but Altea’s voice made him focus again.

Emil, tell us of this Jesuit upon the road? she said. Gooseflesh prickled her skin as she recalled her capture by a witch-hunting monk in Prague. In the moments since Thal had told her about the approaching Jesuit, she had been fighting back her panic.

Her knowledge of the Jesuits startled Emil at first, and he almost asked how she knew, but his place was not to pry.

Four Jesuits come, my Lady, in the company of six of the Duke’s men. Duke Thurzo warned me that they were hunting Lord Thal, so I avoided them and raced ahead to get here first, Emil said.

The Duke warned you? Thal asked.

Yes.

The actions of the Duke were difficult to judge, and Thal needed to ponder the issue. He presumed to dismiss Emil. The man looked to Sarputeen for confirmation, but the brooding old lord remained distant.

Gesturing to the door, Thal encouraged him to comply. Take your rest.

Emil bowed and shut the door on his way out. Altea rushed around the chair and took Thal’s hands. This is a trap. The Duke has sided with the Church and means to claim the reward upon your head, she said.

Gently he touched her scarred thumbs.

Perhaps, he said. But it makes little sense. Thurzo could have captured me when I was half dead from poison. Instead he heeded Father’s call for aid and protected me.

He has changed his mind, Sarputeen rumbled, returning from his bitter reverie. "The commands of his late father have faded from his ears, and he fears that I will take his power for all men in power are wary of those who could dispatch them.

His behavior does not surprise me. I suspected I might overreach with him, but it was worth a try to extract as much as I could from the Thurzos. But I cannot let this one defy me. He shall learn why his father agreed to my terms and then regret his failing to meet them.

He got up from his chair as if nothing more remained to be said.

What do you mean to do? Thal asked, gripped by concern.

Hunt him. Kill him. He was told what it would mean to break contract with me, Sarputeen said.

Who’s impulsive now? Thal asked. You cannot be sure he means to betray us. Have you ever met this man who inherited his father’s debt to you?

Taken aback by his son’s impertinence, Sarputeen said, Are you saying you want to meet him?

No! Altea interjected.

Thal appreciated her protectiveness, but he challenged her counsel. Did you not do the same when I was knocked low by the fext? You told him the truth and begged for his discretion. And he gave it, Thal argued. Then even more firmly he decided, I shall go see him.

Son… Sarputeen began but fell short of issuing a command. Even he, who had lived so long unquestioned by all around him, felt the force of the brave authority within his son.

Thal explained, We need an ally in the battle against Tekax. If I meet Thurzo, I’ll be able to judge if he is true. Perhaps he wants to know the same of me. After all, we have asked much of him.

He turned to Altea, seeking her opinion. Concern still clouded her lovely face, but she had trusted in Thal’s boldness more than once. And she disliked the notion of killing Thurzo after he had given her both hospitality and indulgence.

Slowly, Sarputeen nodded. How shall you approach him? he asked.

I’ll knock on his front door, Thal replied with a grin that no one appreciated.

You are reckless, as Mileko warned me, his father grumbled.

Thal said, Men are not like a prey to be hunted. You’d be surprised how well going up to them and saying what you want works.

Perhaps you are right, Sarputeen conceded.

We shall soon know. On my way down the valley, I shall dispatch those Jesuits, Thal said.

No, Sarputeen said forcefully. If you believe the Duke may still be true, then you mustn’t attack his men or violate their mission. Do not molest them, my son. I’ll deal with these monks that would feed you to their fires.

Altea shuddered. Although she had not gone to watch the witch burnings that spring down the street from her home in Prague, their reality remained vivid and sickening.

Sarpu, she said, using his short name as he had urged her to do. How do you mean to deal with these monks?

He regarded her gently, knowing that this matter was intimately alarming to her. "I don’t know yet, dear daughter. Thurzo’s men must be made to believe they’ve delivered their charges safely to their destination.