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    MericCotton
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Tomorrow's Shadow - 14. An Unexpected Guest

Viktor stood behind the bar, tapping his fingers his face a mask of frustration. What is it? I can feel it, almost a presence, but … of what?

“Viktor?”

The manservant looked up into his master’s eyes. “I’m sorry, m’Lord. I was lost in thought. What can I do for your this fine evening?”

“You can start by telling me what has you so troubled. Not an order, you understand, just a … concerned request from a friend.”

Viktor pursed his lips. “There is not much to say, Lord Stefano. I simply have the unsettling feeling of foreboding. I just cannot determine why.”

“Could it have anything to do with Father’s announcement of wolven?”

“That is most likely the cause. Thank you, m’Lord. I feel much less burdened.”

“I am pleased. I would like a glass of my brandy, please. And have you seen my chylde this evening? He is not in our room.”

Viktor set the glass on the bar. “Lord Gerik did come down earlier. He said he was going for a swim.”

Stefano headed for the balcony, glass in hand. “Excellent. I may join him, it sounds like a brilliant notion.”

Stefano stepped onto the wet sand and scanned the sea while he sipped his drink. Most times I have to plead with him to join me. I am glad if he is more comfortable in the water. Mayhaps he finds swimming as clearing for mind and soul as I do. He caught the flash of movement along one of the rock formations and narrowed his eyes to sharpen his gaze. I believe … yes, it’s him. But what is he doing? It looks like – is he? He is. He is climbing. Must be much more at ease, he didn’t care for the heights when I took him there last. Stefano rested on one of the boulders in the area and watched his chylde. The rush of water over his bare feet was enjoyable. He took another slow drink, then stood up. What is he…? I do not believe he is actually going to jump? By the Fates, he just dove off the rock face! How deep is that area, I don’t remember checking.

Stefano set his glass down and had removed his shirt before the familiar shape surfaced a slight distance from his splash point. He watched in amazement as Gerik swam back to the same rocks and began climbing them again. Alright Stefano, relax. He is fine; not being reckless, though I am surprised at his climbing, not to mention diving into the sea. He will have much to explain when he returns. Now at ease, Stefano picked his glass back up before he sat and went back to watching Gerik. The light of the full wolfmoon shimmered on the surface of the water and surfed the waves in sparkles. A light breeze was blowing and the tide was rising, submerging more and more of Stefano’s legs. His gaze slipped from his chylde to the stars over the horizon. I am at such peace. Even Vargon’s news of wolven does not seem to be of any importance at the present. I am in love with a man who loves me in return. My family is together and safe. I could simply …

His thoughts were broken by a splash of water in his face and a giggle. He refocused to his right and caught Gerik scooping water in both hands. His chylde looked at him and grinned, then threw the water again at Stefano’s face. “Wake up Stef. You’ve been sitting here in a trance; I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past couple minutes.”

“My apologies, my heart.” Stefano stood and unbuttoned his trousers. He let them fall to into the water and kicked them in Gerik’s direction.

Gerik laughed as he ducked beneath the water-logged clothing. “You should warn someone before you throw things.”

Stefano stopped short as his eyes misted over. He shivered in the warm air and swallowed hard. “I … I suppose … I should.” His voice was distant, his gaze unfocused.

“Stef? What’s wrong? Did I do something? Are you feeling ill?” Gerik fired questions at Stefano rapidly, not giving time to answer.

Stefano shook his head then looked at his chylde. “Sorry, my heart. I was just reminded of an earlier time. A much earlier time.”

“Would you tell me of it?

“Come.” Stefano turned and walked to the stairs, then sat on a step. Gerik sat further down, watching his sire closely, as if he didn’t know what to expect. Stefano smiled and wiped a lone tear from his cheek. “I was so young then, younger than you when we first met. I was in training, learning simple matters – how to add or remove numbers; the different gypsy seasons and highdays; typical Rom subjects, I suppose. I had a good friend, his name…” He wiped another tear from his face. “his name was Nikolos.”

Gerik waited a few moments before speaking. “Go on, Stef. I would like to know more, if you would. But it looks like this is causing you great pain.”

Stefano reached down to stroke Gerik’s cheek. “It is a good memory. We were just playing in the meadow nearby – avoiding our training. It was a good day – winter time – snow was over knee depth. Nikolos had thrown a snowball at me while I was turned away from him.” He smiled broadly.” He yelled ‘Duck’ just before it hit. Knocked me face down in the snow. My reaction, once I brushed most of the cold from my face and chest, was to tell him he should warn somebody before throwing something at them…” He gazed into the distance. “In many ways, you remind me of him. The same playful spirit,” his eyes returned to Gerik, “the same incredible eyes.”

Gerik pursed his lips in thought. “Do you see him when you look at me?”

“What? No, my heart. I see you. The man I love. Perhaps your similarities to another drew my attention to you initially, but it is your spirit, your being, that I adore.”

“So then, what became of … Nikolos?”

Sorrow flooded Stefano’s presence. “The men of the camp were on a hunt – Nikolos had moved to circle in from the right, I was on the left.”

Gerik remained silent, listening and watching his sire.

“He never came out of the thicket. He was there, we heard a shout, and he was gone.”

“You never saw him again?”

“No.”

“It sounds like he was very important to you.” “He was,” Stefano stood. “But that is enough reminiscing. If I remember correctly, you had just …” He bent down and splashed water on Gerik. Within moments they were waist-deep in the surging foam-coated surf, laughing, splashing, and pushing each other beneath the waves.

Later, while lying on the beach star gazing, Gerik rolled to his side towards Stefano. “I suppose then I’m glad I have a resemblance to him.”

“Him? Oh. Nikolos. Yes? Why does it please you?”

Gerik leaned in for a kiss. “I would not have met you otherwise.”

......

The next evening found Stefano drumming his fingers on the bar while watching Viktor run the numbers in the daily ledger. “Did he say when he’d be back?” Frustration emanated
from him.

“No, m’Lord. Mas… Lord Vargon only said he was going ‘out’ and would return soon.”

“But you know where he went. You are too connected to him not to know.”

“I can sense general area is all, and before ye ask the answer is ‘No’, I will not break generations of protecting his privacy. Even for ye.”

“Fair enough, then. I truly do find your loyalty a strength.” He stood, unbuttoned the top of his trousers, then sat back down. The pants were his tightest; they looked uncomfortable. He was sans shirt and barefoot. “Foul things are going to strangle me.”

“I did offer to handle your laundry earlier this week. Ye know I would without question or delay. I actually do enjoy my station in life, m’Lord.”

“Yes, Viktor, I know. It is apparent in everything you do. I was just trying to … I don’t know what I was trying to do.” Stefano paused in thought before continuing. “Alright. You are right, I’m being stubborn for no reason. Viktor, I would be pleased if you would take on another duty here at the Keep. Will you handle the laundry for myself and Gerik?”

“Yes, m’Lord.”

“Stefano, what is this?” Gerik walked down the stairs slowly, carrying a small oaken box.

“Ah… my memory box.”

“Memory box?”

“A place for keepsakes, that type of thing. It belonged to Allise. There is a small panel on the front that slides enough to unlatch the top.”

Gerik examined the box carefully, then grinned widely as he opened the small container. He set it on the bar and took some things out, then stopped. “It is all right if I look through this, isn’t it?”

“Of course, my heart. Memories are meant to be treasured and shared with those you love.”

“It looks like mostly finger bands and the like. Wait, this one is too large for a woman. What is this one for?” He handed it to Stefano.

Stefano smiled as he slipped it on his right index finger. “A marriage band. This one is mine. After … after I lost Allise and Niko, I put it in the box so I wouldn’t misplace it somewhere.” He slipped the band off and handed it back to Gerik.

“Yes, Niko was your son. I remember. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you by bringing this down.”

“You have not, Gerik. These are things I treasure, it is only right you learn their value.”

Gerik held out his hand. On his palm was a small circular item with a delicate chain and closing hook. “And this?”

Stefano picked it up, again with a wistful smile.” A ringlet. Worn on the ear. Something my troupe used to show affection and dedication for another. They were made in pairs.”

“A ringlet? But it is not round. That is, yes, it is round, but it has sides and edges.” “Indeed it does. Six, to be precise. It is carved from stone, a fine crystalline, actually.” He handed it back. “Let it hang from your fingers and spin it in the light.”

Gerik gasped. “It pulses light. A pale blue light.”
“Yes. I have no idea how Ferin, he was our stonesmith, managed to make them. Because of the angled edges, it catches light and filters the blue. It almost looks like a heartbeat, the way it pulses.”

“And your wife wore the other one. So you wore both band and ringlet?”

“No. Actually, the mate to that ringlet was worn by Nikolos. Mine was worn in the left ear, his in the right.”

Gerik turned it a few more times before returning it to the box. “It is beautiful. Incredible craftsmanship. Impressive, really. All right, so what is this?” He pulled what appeared to be hairs tied by a thread from the box.

Stefano paused, his hand shook as he held it out for the hair. “Nikolos… that is, Niko, my son. From his first hair trim. Allise wanted a locket to keep it in. She planned on giving it to him … on his wedding day.” He wiped a tear from his cheek and handed the hair back to Gerik. “Possibly the one memory that still causes me to weep.”

Gerik replaced the hair and closed the box. He leaned forward and kissed his sire’s cheek. “I’m sorry for your loss and pain, Stefano, but I thank you deeply for sharing these memories with me. I shall put this back in our room.” With that he turned and reverently carried the memory box upstairs.

Viktor looked up from his ever-present ledger. “Your mate is an interesting study, m’Lord.”

“How so, interesting?”

“Many might be jealous of a lover’s memories from previous days. Lord Gerik seems to value your past almost as much as you do.”

“He has a gentle soul, a kind heart. He is the greatest joy in my life.”

“Who’s the greatest joy in your life?” Gerik grinned as he walked back to the bar.

“You, of course, my love.” Stefano replied, kissing Gerik softly as he sat. Viktor closed the ledger and looked to Stefano. “I must speak to the kitchen help about any supply needs and contact the delivery market. If you gentlemen will excuse me.” He bowed his head then turned and walked into the kitchen.

Gerik chuckled as the door closed and got an inquisitive look from Stefano.

"You find something humorous?”

“More intriguing, I suppose. I was just noticing that Viktor will ask to be excused but leave before he gets a response.”

“If you listen, you’ll find he is not truly asking, it is more him saying we should excuse him because he is about to step away.”

“I’ll have to give closer attention. Stefano, I was wondering, should we get marriage bands or ringlets or some-such? Anyone who sees us would then know we are together.”

Stefano winked. “If they cannot tell by the lust in my eyes, they are blind. But – did you have something in mind?”

Gerik grinned, the imp in his eyes shone. “Well, I do know one place you could wear a band, assuming, of course, one could be found large enough.”

Stefano laughed and shook his head. “Can you remove your mind from my pants, even for a short time? Besides, how would anyone ‘know we are together’ with a band there?” He dropped his voice conspiratorially. “And by what do you mean ‘large enough’? I thought you found my size … ideal for your pleasure.”

Before Gerik could answer, one of the front doors swung open and Vargon stepped in, accompanied by a man neither Stefano or Gerik recognized. Stefano was pleased to see Vargon appeared in good spirits. They were apparently in deep discussion as they were walking slowly with several hand gestures. Stefano waited until they were at the bar and looked his direction, though Vargon spoke before his chylde could ask about the stranger. “Jence, this is Stefano, Lord of this Keep and Prince of the region. Stefano, I met Jence on the mainland seeking for you.”

Jence extended his arm. “Prince Stefano, it is my distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Jence, chylde of Baston, chylde of Orvis. I am here to request acceptance as a subject of your realm. I wish to reside within your territory.”

Stefano and Jence grasped arms firmly as Stefano spoke. “Jence, it is good to meet you. I thank you for seeking me out and abiding by the traditions of old. Tell me of where within my realm you wish to settle.” He released Jence’s arm as his was released.

“I desire living in the Arvus camp; I have a missive from elder Runick. He handed the sealed parchment to the kumpania.

Stefano carefully opened the page and read it smiling.” I know Runick’s hand, his signature, and the seal on his missive. As he has given permission to your request, I welcome you to the kumpania. Runick says here your wagon sits with theirs and that you have two meek steeds. What is your skill or trade?”

“I care for animals, my lord. It was my dream as a child; the Fates have surely smiled upon me to grant that hope. And they bless again with my finding the kumpania. I look forward to traveling with them, living with them, becoming one with Arvus kindred.”

“Well met, then. Viktor, wyne for friend Jence and my sire. Jence, may I introduce my chylde, Gerik.”

Jence extended his arm. “Well met, friend Gerik.” His eyes flashed with desire, an action not unnoticed by the prince.

“Well met, Jence. I once considered the medical trade but didn’t take the studies.”

“Truly? What made you give up on medicine?”

“It is a long, boring tale of a spoiled rich child.”

“You have raised my interest, I would enjoy hearing more.”

“Once you are settled in Arvus, you should come back for a stay and we can talk more. We have plenty of spare rooms.”

“I would enjoy that.”

Stefano watched in silence as shadows swirled within the his pupils.

......

The storm the following evening competed against the one in Stefano's spirit for mastery over the young prince. Waves jostled him as he swam to his favorite resting place. Although the tempest's center had not yet reached the island, the sea foretold of its severity. White caps pounded the shore mercilessly as winds began to rise. Stars were gradually swallowed behind ominous clouds that encroached the heavens. By the time he reached the level outcropping, his muscles were feeling the strain.

Stefano climbed above the water and laid down to relax. His gaze was skyward, but unfocussed as his heart debated with his mind.
I cannot lose another.
He loves me, there is no danger.
Jence wants him, I could sense it.
I can trust Gerik.
I cannot trust Jence.
Gerik will not be swayed.
Gerik is all too oft sex-crazed.
Gerik loves me. And Jence will be leaving soon.
Jence still has one more night before returning to Arvis.
Jence is no real threat.
I must protect that which is mine.

Stefano growled angrily and stood to dive into the raging waters. Cold assaulted his nervous system; his eyes stung from sand the storm had stirred into the sea. When he reached the small inlet to his beach, the rising tide helped him to the shore. He walked onto the wet sand and remained motionless as rivulets of salty sea water ran down his frame. Finally Stefano shook his head, sending water spray everywhere. When he turned to grab his towel he cursed himself for its absence. This is what happens when I rush. Vargon was always trying to teach me to slow down, think first. It is just not part of me. He sighed and grabbed his shirt and tried to dry off. Unfortunately silk does not absorb much so he was still very wet when he gave up and tugged his trousers on. As an afterthought, he left the top button open. This will keep his attention on me. He padded up the stone steps smiling as he imagined how his appearance would affect his lover. Water droplets glistened on his chest and back while his lower torso was encased in his trousers. It was if he never tried to dry, the fabric of the pants wet enough to cling to him like a second skin.

Because the storm's magnitude rose, he stopped to close both balcony doors before fully entering the grand hall. He looked around the room and swore silently; Gerik was nowhere to be found. Not surprisingly, neither was their guest. The room was empty, the only sound being the crackle from the fireplace. Stefano turned to the stairs and quickly scaled them. He stood quiet a moment – not a sound. His next move was up the stairs to the third floor. He walked the hall quietly, listening at each door, but still heard nothing. By the Fates, where are you?

His hearing perked as the sound of the front door echoed up the stairs. He sighed in relief then headed back down, working on calming himself more at each step. Think first, act second. Get the full story before you kill Jence. He chuckled to himself. When he turned on the last landing he was jolted to a stop by the scene in front of him. Jence held Gerik by the shoulders; it was obvious his chylde did not want the attention being given. Jence’s voice was deep with want. “No one will know, and I assure you it will be more than you could ever dream of.” He pulled Gerik closer, trying to kiss him.
Before Stefano could react, Gerik broke free and turned to kick out his left foot. He struck Jence squarely in the chest, sending the kindred stumbling backwards.

Gerik’s voice filled the room. “I am through being the ‘good host’. You will gather your things and leave our home now.”

“You are not Lord of the Keep. And you certainly are not Prince.”

Stefano stepped down onto the main floor. “No, but I am.” His tone clearly indicated he spoke in authority.

Jence released Gerik and stepped back, the desire in his eyes quickly replaced by fear and trepidation. Gerik took one look at his sire’s demeanor and knew a storm to match anything outside was brewing inside. “Sire, this one has been after me ever since you left for your swim. I have made every effort to squelch his advances. And now he refuses to leave because I have no authority in our own home.”

Stefano held out a hand; Gerik walked over and took it. Stefano pulled him close and spoke, his voice gentle. “You have all authority here, less negating my words. I saw enough to know you valiantly defended yourself, indeed our home as well.” He slowly raised his eyes to look at Jence, who stood near the bar. This time when he spoke, thunder echoed in his voice, the rumble of a distant threat. “You are to leave our home now. You are fortunate I am not banning you from my realm and putting a price on your life, though I am close. One word to Runick and you would never see the inside of your wagon again. I should just kill you here; I certainly have the right and justification! Do not try to explain or worm your way clear – I know what I saw, and I saw more than enough. Heed my words – if I ever see your face again, anywhere, or hear your voice or even sense your foulness, you shall pay the price for your actions here tonight. I will let you decide out how to avoid my visits to Arvis. That is, if the elders permit you to remain. Now go.”

Jence was half-way to the stairs when the balcony doors exploded. The branch of a large tree lay through one of the glass panels, the second door was torn from its hinges. Glass from both doors littered the room.

Stefano had crouched low with Gerik, shielding him as best he could. Once the initial turmoil was finished, he stood with his chylde and searched his eyes. “Are you alright, my love? Are you injured?”

Gerik placed a hand on his sire’s cheek. “I am fine, my love, my protector. I was frightened at first, but I calmed when you sheltered me. Did anything hit you?”

“Nothing, my love. It looks like we both are unscathed.”

“I cannot say the same for him.” Gerik pointed at Jence who was prone on the floor, not moving.

Stefano walked over to him and knelt as Viktor entered the room from the kitchens. A large shard of stained glass was lodged in Jence's temple. The manservant surveyed the situation and spoke in time to stop Stefano from removing the shard.

“Leave the glass. Removing it would give free flow from the wound. Let me get my things.” He stepped into the kitchen and returned quickly holding a bluish bottle of liquid and some pieces of a red cloth. He knelt beside the wounded one and looked at Stefano. “You will need to help me.”

“Just tell me what to do, Viktor, and it will be done.”

Viktor handed him a thick fold of cloth. “I am going to remove the glass. I need you to cover the wound immediately. Apply pressure – we want to restrict blood loss as much as possible. There are only a few places where a kindred can effectively be drained of life. With him prone, this is second only to the heart.”

Stefano nodded. “Understood.” He rapidly covered the wound once the glass was gone.

“Good, just keep pressing.” Viktor opened the bottle and closed his eyes, and lifted the bottle with both hands. “By the Fates I call from all nature that which gives life. I call the healing of the oxen, the strength of the bear, the swiftness of the doe. Infuse my humble offering with your powers that I may save this man’s life.”

Stefano and Gerik watched in wide-eyed amazement as a whisp of white smoke began to flow towards the bottle. It swirled in an ancient dance, twisting around itself before descending into the raised vessel. Viktor reverently lowered the bottle, eyes still closed. “I thank you and call on the Fates to decree healing on this one.” He opened his eyes. “Now, remove the cloth.” As blood began to flow from the wound, Viktor placed two fingers lightly over it opening and began pouring from the bottle. A thick clear essence flowed out, falling on his fingers. Viktor’s hand shook and he cried out in pain as the area around his fingers began to glow. White light started to fill the room when Viktor shouted. “Stefano. Gerik. Cover your eyes. Now!” Both men closed their eyes and covered them with an arm. The felt a cool breeze for a moment, then suddenly only the storm could be heard.


“Uncover your eyes, it is done. The light is gone.”

Viktor still knelt beside Jence – the wound to his temple was closed. It was a light crimson, but the skin was definitely sealed over it. Viktor stood, uneasy on his feet. He appeared drained and old, extremely old. Stefano stood quickly and supported him. Viktor nodded slightly. “Thank you. That one will need to rest. Put him in one of your upper beds. He will be quiet for at least three nights.” He spoke as a general ordering his troops, even with his weakened voice. “Now … I need to sit by the fire and meditate.”

Stefano helped him to the settee nearest the fireplace, watched to ensure the man didn’t topple over, then returned to Gerik’s side. “My love, look to the balcony doors, see if you can determine anyway to shut out the storm. I will take our guest back upstairs.”

Gerik headed for the demolished doorway as his sire slipped his arms under Jence’s unconscious form, then lifted him and headed upstairs. When he returned he looked beyond the piano in amazement. Both doors were in place and Gerik was fastening a heavy material over the second door. The first door was already covered.

“What did you find to seal the doors?”

His chylde finished his work and stepped over to his love. “One of the heavy canvases we use over the wagon when storms come. I ripped it in half and fastened each half to the opening in the door. The door that came completely free I have set back in place and braced by the harp. I realize that is not wise, but I needed something heavy and the piano was too bulky.”

Stefano quieted any unrest in his soul over the harp’s position and leaned down to kiss Gerik. “You amaze me. You have completely closed out the storm. I am … beyond words.” He turned his head to listen. “The storm is breaking apart. Or moving past. Either way, calm ensues.”

As he hugged his chylde, the front door opened and a weather-beaten Vargon and Odessa stepped in. Vargon swiftly closed the door again and hugged his wife. “We are home safe, my love. As promised.”

“I never doubted.”

As they walked towards the bar, Vargon looked to the fledgeling prince.

“Pour me a brandy, my son. Then tell me what has transpired here - what happened to the beautiful stained glass doors, why is there blood all over the floor, and what is going on with Viktor?”

Stefano stepped behind the bar and began filling glasses.

“Sit down, Sire. This will take some time.”

Copyright © 2018 MericCotton; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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