Tomorrow's Shadow - 16. Ebb and Flow

“He is wolven. You can have nothing to do with him.” Vargon glared at his chylde, his eyes ablaze with anger. “By the Fates, you are Prince!”

Stefano fought to contain his kindred anger. “You have a friend that is wolven. You stated it yourself. She was your friend even while you were Prince.” Stefano sipped his bloodwyne, watching Vargon over the rim of his glass with hooded eyes. “How is that so different?”

“She maintains her mortal form except during wolfmoon. You told me yourself that your past love gave himself over to the night fully.”

“I hardly see how…”

“I will not debate this with you.”

“Nor I with you, Lord Vargon. I do, however, suggest you remember who is Prince now and speak with the respect due to such. Or, to quote my predecessor, I shall take the actions allowed me by convention, by tradition – indeed, by law.”

“Against your own sire.”

“Who taught me that the duties of a Prince outweigh the bonds of sire and chylde?”

Vargon paused, then bowed his head. “As you wish, my Lord Prince. May you find the strength to live by your own convictions.” He turned and walked out the front door.

Gerik stood beside his mate, his eyes wide. “I have never seen your sire in such a state.”

“Nor I, my heart.”

Viktor looked up from his ledger. “You realize, m’Lord, he only wants what is best in his eyes.”

Stefano sighed as he regarded his manservant. “I know, Viktor. But he oversteps himself, which is very much unlike him.”

“Which should tell you how concerned he is.”

“Mayhaps. It is still uncalled for.”

“Of course, m’Lord. If you will excuse me.”

Stefano watched his friend and manservant disappear through the door to the kitchens. As the door closed, he turend to Gerik. “Am I so in the wrong? All I stated was that I wished I knew where Nikolos was so I could speak with him.”

“I do not believe you are wrong in wishing so, Stef. I won’t say that I am pleased with the prospect of you being with him. But only because I do not know him as you do, and he is wolven.” He stepped behind the bar to freshen their drinks. “Do you have any way of contacting him?”

“No. Of course not. I did not even say I was planning on searching for him. Only that I wish I had a chance to talk to him. To learn for myself what happened the day he disappeared.”

“Is that not somewhat obvious, my heart?”

Stefano sighed again. “I suppose it is, Gerik. I suppose it is.”

Gerik idly tapped the side of his glass.

“What is it, Gerik? You only do that when there is something on your mind..”

“I was wondering if you still planned on going to House Verenthal tomorrow eve.”

“I had forgotten. Yes, of course. I gave my word, we have no choice..”

“My thoughts as well, beloved, though I am beginning to understand your hesitance in spending time with mortal-kind.”

----

Early the following evening, Viktor watched as the sun slipped below the horizon in a blaze of gold and crimson. He stood at the balcony rail, sipping a mug of an herbal mixture of his own creation. Though his eyes watched the splendor of shifting colors, his mind was on other matters. Should I tell Lord Stefano that his sire no longer responds to my reaches? I doubt Lord Vargon would wish it, but without the ability to speak with him I am left to my own judgement. If I spoke it, what purpose would it serve? I am not truly concerned over it - I do not sense anything has happened to my old friend - but that he avoids responding troubles me nonetheless. As the sky faded to a dark violet he finished his brew and stepped back into the Keep.

Once inside, Viktor nodded to lords Stefano and Gerik as they descended the grand staircase and crossed to the bar. Stefano stood quietly, exercising his patience as Gerik fussed over his sire’s cravat and the creases of his shirt. When Stefano reached for his snifter of brandy, Gerik smacked his hand away.

“Hold still. I’ll be done in a moment.” As the younger kindred began tugging at the sides of the waistcoat, Stefano finally brushed him away.

“Enough. I am not some debutante about to be presented at court.”

“Lord and Lady Verenthal are prominent within the houses of Atterstock and close acquaintances to my parents. I only wish to make the best of impressions on them.”

“You think they will get your parents to accept us? After all your father has said against our relationship?”

“No. But I’d rather they not report badly.”

“Does that mean I am not to touch you?”

“No. Of course not. Just … “

“Just don’t be you?”

Gerik swatted Stefano’s shoulder. “I am not that bad.”

Stefano smiled as lust burned in his dark eyes. “No, love. You are that good.”

Viktor cleared his throat and headed for the bar. “Are ye ready to depart for your evening’s engagement? I can send for a carriage to be ready when you reach the mainland.” \

Gerik gasped. “I had forgotten. Thank you, Viktor. We’d be lost without you.”

Viktor bowed his head. “Happy to be of assistance, Lord Gerik.”

Stefano rolled his eyes and grabbed his drink, taking it in one gulp.

Viktor started to step away but stopped. “Master Stefano, I have need to tell ye I heard from the workmen. They shall be here to replace the balcony doors on the morrow.”

“Excellent. Thank you for tending to that, my friend.”

“As always, it is my pleasure to serve, m’Lord.”

Stefano checked the time before pouring himself a refill and sighed. “I suppose we best get to the stables and head for the ferry. Viktor, if you would release a bird for the ferryman he can probably send for the carriage before he heads across.”

Viktor nodded and disappeared into the kitchens.

Later, as they rode in the carriage, Gerik prattled on about the Lord and Lady, how his parents and the Verenthals would get together for various functions, how the ladies held teas for the women of the district, and how the lords would hunt quail and pheasant. Stefano answered from time to time with a noncommittal grunt as he gazed out the window at the passing scenery. The road circled around a small lake bordered by different types of tree and undergrowth. Being late in the seasons, leaves were turning to a brilliant cacophony of reds and browns, golds and oranges, interlaced with various intensities of green. The air was crisp with the clean smell of autumn; the only sound was the gentle rhythm of horse hooves on cobblestone. Stefano was relaxed into the atmosphere of the pleasant surroundings when he heard Gerik repeatedly said his name, each time in rising frustration.

“Stefano. Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m sorry, love. I guess my mind was on sire and this disagreement about Nikolos. I do apologize. What were you saying?”

“Not that I suppose it compares to your important issues, but I was going to point out House Arvent, since they have asked for us to visit later this month.” The younger kindred crossed his arms across his chest and looked out the window.

“Love, please. I realize you have your hands full with managing our social calendar, even with Viktor’s assistance, but do understand there is much on my mind at present as well.”

Gerik turned to his sire and sighed, uncrossing his arms. “I know. You are in much the same ship as I, what with how Lord Vargon left things. I am sure it weighs on your spirit, dearest one … I do not know. I suppose I still hope for reconciliation with Father. I am certain it is his opinion that holds Mother away.” He looked at the floorboards of the carriage. “I suppose it is just pointless wishing, but they are my parents.”

“I know, my heart. I know.” As the carriage turned onto a private lane lined with oak trees in fall splendor, Stefano reached to an inner pocket and withdrew a silver flask, which he handed to Gerik. “Here. Take a sip.”

Gerik looked skeptical. “What is this?”

“Bourbon. It will settle your nerves and mayhaps get your legs to stop shaking.”

“They are not … alright, I suppose they are … somewhat. Do you really think I need…?”

“Yes. Drink.”

Gerik took a swig and shuddered, coughing. “By the Fates, this is house bourbon.”

“Of course it is.”

“I was not expecting the alcohol level. Not to mention the absence of blood.”

“We fed earlier; there was no need for sustenance.” Stefano glanced out the window as the carriage came to a full halt. “Take another sip. We are there.”

Gerik could not have known that by the end of their visit he would be craving the entire bottle...

Several hours after their return from House Verenthal, the Lord of the Keep and his chylde were relaxing on a settee facing the fireplace. Each had a snifter of blood-brandy which they savored as they discussed the night’s events. Since no one else was in the great hall, they spoke openly.

“So, my chylde, I think the evening went well. I did not notice at any time that Lord or Lady Verenthal were taken aback by our relationship or our display of such. There were at least two occasions where I kissed your cheek, you took my hand at one point, yet neither said a word or expressed any displeasure in their mannerisms.”

“I was thinking the same, my heart. For me, the deciding moment was when they had their sons come into the parlor and recite for us. Surely, if they had anything against our love, they never would have brought the twins near us.”

“Ah yes, the poets. What was it … Andronicus and …”

“Antonius.”

“Yes, Antonius. I found their sharing of lines and phrases intriguing. It felt like the one was reading the other’s mind. Quite entertaining. Even more so learning they had written the piece they recited. Inspiring, coming from lads still in their early teen years. Even if they had been clumsy and inane, they were a welcome break in the endless recounting of Verenthal wealth and influence.”

Gerik giggled. “Yes, I was rapidly becoming bored with Lord Verenthal’s endless boasting. Even his wife appeared frustrated with him near the end. I will say, for me to have been raised in such an environment and yet find the whole issue tiresome and dull is a bit surprising.”

“You enjoyed it then, during your early years?”

“No, though I certainly endured it with greater ease. Or mayhaps I simply blocked it out. I know there were times I would catch myself dreaming of far off places and simpler times. Yet I must confess I was impressed with the Verenthal dining parlor. The marble floor with the split and matching veins of color – and polished to the point of appearing o glow. A rather awesome sight even though I fear a spilled drink or any liquid on that floor would have spelled disaster on so highly polished a surface.” Gerik stood. “May I refresh your brandy, Sire?”

“Yes, thank you. I would agree on the room. Actually all of the rooms we saw were grand and quite noble in appearance. Without being overly dramatic or ostentatious.”

Gerik finished preparing their drinks and headed back across the room. “I would imagine the Lady of the house had a hand in that. She doesn’t seem the pretentious type. Odd, that she spends so much time with Mother who is completely the opposite. Your brandy, good sir.”

Stefano took the snifter and chuckled. “Such gallant service. It causes me to believe we spent a mite too much time in the presence of nobility such as what we have experienced this night.”

“I do wish they had spoken more of Mother and Father. Even if my parents shun us, my heart, they are still my parents.”

“I understand, beloved. Your heart has always been true and faithful with me. I would expect nothing less towards the people who gave you life.”

Gerik yawned behind his hand. “Forgive me. I suppose I am more tired than I had thought.”

“It was a long evening. But I believe a fruitful one. If we are correct in their acceptance of us, should they still hold friendship with your parents, mayhaps they will speak well of us. Possibly to reconsider their stand regarding our love.”

“I suppose.” Gerik stood again, finishing his drink. “I am ready to retire. The sun comes soon and I can use a good day’s sleep.”

“You go on ahead, my love. I wish to have a bit more brandy, plus I must quiet my own mind.”

“You still worry over your sire.”

“Yes. When Viktor told us after we arrived home that he had not had any contact with Vargon, it stressed me to the core. I need to sort through my feelings on the matter afore I will be prepared for sleep.”

“I could stay with you.”

“And I would love you for it. But you have already voiced your exhaustion. Please, do not worry for me. I will not delay in joining you. As you said, morning will arrive soon.” Stefano stood and kissed Gerik gently. “Rest well.”

“Thank you, love. Try not to worry over it; Lord Vargon is a proud man, but a loving one. He shall come around.” With that Gerik headed up to their room.

Stefano looked around the great hall and sighed. So much had happened over the recent nights, his mind was still awash with emotion and confusion. He carried their glasses to the bar, then walked towards the front door. Mayhaps a stroll and pipe. I must thank Lord Stonce again for his suggestion on tobac. And his gift of this pipe. After packing and lighting his pipe, Stefano walked from the Keep, strolling slowly toward the stables just so he had a direction. He was almost to the stable doors when he heard it. Or felt it. A presence. He shivered as the voice sounded within his mind.

I need speak with you.

Stefano emptied his pipe, grinding any embers into the dirt with his heel. He slipped the pipe into a pocket in his overcoat as the voice hit him again.

I need speak with you.

Stefano answered in kind. Where are you? Let us speak where I can see you.

It is not wise. If Alpha Draxis should learn of it…

He is no more.

So then, I was right about his absence. Come south, I wait in the grove of Teakwood trees.

Stefano took off to the south, his steps quick. After only a few steps he broke into a run, his gaze locked on the distant grove. His mind whirled with the reality of the moment. As he reached the trees he slowed, finally stopping after entering the grove itself.

“Stefano.”

He turned around slowly, unsure what he would see. A few feet from him, dressed in tattered trousers and a ripped shirt, stood Nikolos, in mortal form. When he took a step forward, Nikolos held up his hand.

“Wait. The things I need speak must be said before we touch or I shall lose my nerve.”

“It is you, then.”

“It is, brother of my heart.”

“I have longed for this time. More so once I knew you still lived. What happened then, dear one? You just … vanished.”

“It was a pit-trap. Well hidden. I had not but just fallen into it when I was grabbed. I think they were waiting at the bottom. I remember being seized and then everything was gone. When I came to, I was in their gathering place. The rest … the rest is not worth speaking. Nor is it truly required.”

“The past can remain the past. What matters now is we have found each other.”

“The past paints the future, Stefano. We are enemies of blood. And although I am sure, for a time, we could hold back the impulses of our nature, it would overcome us soon enough. And I, for one, cannot fathom seeing you as anything less than I do now. A love lost then found, only to be released again.”

“You are right of course, Nikolos. But the thought of saying farewell is a pain I do not wish to bear.”

“Nor I, my dear one. And mayhaps we can speak through missives and, if close enough, in our hearts as we have tonight. For whether or not a heart beats, it still speaks.”

“And feels loss. Nikolos, my Nikolos. I must hold you once more.”

The two stepped closer, then embraced in a burst of unbridled passion. Their lips crushed together as hungry tongues fenced wildly. Then all too soon, the wolven stepped back. “I would that I could stay, but keeping this form is difficult. Even more when my emotions are so frayed.”

“May the Fates h..hold you close and protect you from harm, dearest of my heart.”

“And you, my first and only love.” Nikolos leaned in to give a gentle, lingering kiss before stepping back. His voice was raspy and broken when he spoke. “Farewell, Stefano.” He turned and leapt into the shadows then was gone.

Stefano stood silent in the darkness until he could no longer hear or sense his dearest friend. Tears slipped from his dark eyes and he wept in the solitude of the grove until he gradually regained some composure. A shudder ran through him as he whispered into the night air.

“Farewell, Nikolos.”