Tomorrow's Shadow - 15. When Past Becomes Present

To his credit, Vargon listened to Stefano’s narration of the evening’s events without interjection. However, once his chylde had finished, he sat forward on the settee. Odessa remained silent as she sat beside him.

“While you have covered facts well, I find details greatly lacking. I hope you had no immediate plans, I intend to have my questions answered. This night.”

“Of course, Sire. I am just going to refresh my glass.”

“I’ll get it, love.” Gerik offered. He took everyone’s empty glass and headed for the bar.

“Bourbon for me, my heart. And not house. I need the alcohol.”

Gerik giggled. “Yes, Stefano.”

Vargon gestured at Viktor, who was still quiet, barely breathing. “He has been like this for how long?”

“Less than an hour. Gerik and I had barely finished talking about the balcony doors when you walked in.”

“Fine, then. If it should ever go beyond two hours, you will need to wake him, which is done by slowly dropping ice water onto his hands. First left, then right, and keep alternating, every few moments. Be certain the water is bitter cold and you start with his left hand.”

“What if he still doesn’t stir?”

“He will. Of this I am positive.” He accepted his glass from Gerik, took a sip, then turned his attention back on Stefano. “Now then, you are saying a tree came through the doors?”

“No sir. A large tree limb came through the one, shattering the glass while it knocked the other free of its hinges. This is why that door is secured with my harp.”

“Gerik, I must commend you on your astute thinking, and Stefano, I am quite pleased with your ability to maintain emotions when dealing with the damage, not to mention the current placement of the harp.”

Gerik bowed his head in gratitude while the other responded verbally. “Thank you. I will admit my temper flared initially, but Gerik’s reasoning was sound. To object would have been ludicrous.”

“Agreed, but back to the doors. I’m assuming Gerik, you removed the tree limb?”

“Yes, Lord Vargon. It was required in order to mend the doors at all. I only tossed it off the balcony; I imagine it will need proper disposal when the weather clears.”

“I never knew you to be the muscular sort, young one. Not saying you are lazy, just physically inclined would not be my first thoughts of you.”

“No offense taken, sir. I honestly didn’t think about what strength it might entail. Stefano had given instructions and as his chylde, I needed to carry them out. Debris also covered the floor; it needed attended. Since stained glass is notoriously thick, I had Viktor’s ‘First Attendant’ remove all the pieces while I tended to the door. I trust I made the right decisions.”

“You did, indeed. Well decided and acted upon. Did young Argest have any suggestions or thoughts regarding Viktor?”

“No, my lord. He did ask we let him know if Viktor’s trance lingered more than a couple of hours.”

“Viktor made a solid choice in him, then.” Vargon’s eyes drifted to the mage. “It appears my friend’s countenance grows more like himself and less … ancient.” He turned his attention back to Stefano. “The shattered glass brings us to our third mystery. Jence’s injury. But I wish to back that up, to his behavior prior to the hall exploding.”

“In that case, Sire, your questions will be best answered by my chylde, as he was the one present.”

“Well then,” Vargon took a sip of his drink as his gaze swung to Gerik. “I’m afraid you shall remain under my observation glass for a while longer.”

“It is my honor, Grandsire.” “Grandsire?” Vargon’s eyebrow shot up in query. Stefano coughed and sputtered, trying not to spray his surroundings with bourbon. “It is not a term kindred use. Nor is it a term I appreciate. It comes from the muritor world and denotes age, and therefore inappropriate for me.”

Stefano butted in. “We have not yet discussed that word, Sire. In truth, I have just begun instructing what words or phrases are to be stricken from his vocabulary.”

“Calm yourself, chylde. I am not angry. And you should remember from your own instruction that even if I were upset, protocol demands I would leave it to you to address it. It would not be my place to correct your chylde. More so now that you are Prince.”

“I remember, sir. I should have not answered in haste.”

“Good.” He turned to his wife. “Dessa, love, do you need your drink refreshed? Is it a great discomfort to sit through my inquisition?”

Odessa smiled up at him, her eyes glowing with her devotion. “Of course not, dearest one. It is never uncomfortable being with you. You are my sire, you possess my heart. Though I would like a house sherry.”

“Stefano, get your sister her drink. I have more questions for your young one.”

“Yes, Sire.” Stefano headed for the bar.

“Now then, young Gerik, you say Jence was behaving poorly from the start?”

“Yes, my lord. Sire had just gone for a swim when Jence asked to see the grounds. He showed great interest in the stables. I assumed it was because of his work with animals.” He paused to sip his blood wyne. Should have followed Stef’s example and had alcohol. "We had toured the stables, Jence had many questions and compliments on our steeds. He seemed genuinely interested. It was when we stepped into the hay store room that he … he attacked me. I know of no other word for it. His hands were on me, his lips were on me. He growled like one of his own feral patients.”

“And you fended him off and returned to the hall.”

“Not at first, my lord. It took a bit of maneuvering to get free from his clutches.” Gerik stopped, deciding whether to go further. Vargon noticed the pause and leaned forward further.

“There is more. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I would rather not…”

“Prince. Speak to this chylde.”

Gerik jumped in before Stefano could answer. “He became more aggressive. It wasn’t until… that is, I didn’t feel truly threatened until he …” He took a breath. “…he shoved a hand into my trousers.”

“He WHAT?” Like a volcano, Mount Stefano erupted, crushing his glass in his hands. Bourbon splashed around them, Odessa wiped some from her cheek, which of course triggered hurricane Vargon.

“I will not tolerate such behavior. You will watch yourself around my wife…” Odessa lightly placed her hand on his arm. “My love, it was not intended.” She licked the alcohol from her index finger. “In fact, the taste is more pleasant than I would have thought, for bourbon.” She held her hand up and winked at her husband. “Would you like to taste?”

Vargon stopped cold. His transformation took just a few seconds. The anger slipped away, his eyes shone, and he smiled. He kissed her fingers. “I shall save that pleasure for later this night.” He turned to Stefano. “My apologies, Lord Prince. We may continue when you are ready.” He bowed his head slightly and sat beside Odessa.

Stefano blinked, then did it again. I cannot have witnessed what just transpired. Not only did he defer for his wife, he submitted to my authority as Prince. He bowed. “My sincerest pardons, my Lord Vargon. Lady Odessa, my sister in blood, would you like to try a glass of bourbon? I have need to . . replace my glass. Not to mention wash.”

“No, Stefano. My sherry is enough.”

Vargon waved a hand at Stefano.” Go wash then. I have more questions for your chylde.” He leaned back and relaxed, smiling at Gerik. “You need not give any more details, young one. I have a clear picture of your guest’s actions. This would be the point when you returned to the hall?”

“Yes, my lord. I tried to order him from the house; he said I wasn’t Prince and couldn’t order him. Stefano was just entering from upstairs and came to my rescue at that point. He reminded Jence who was Prince, and instructed him to leave. That is when all of Hades walked in.”

“The remainder I know. The doors, the glass, Viktor’s expense at healing Jence.” He looked over as Stefano stepped up with a fresh glass of bourbon. “It seems your next decision, my Prince, would be what to do with the wounded one upstairs - once he is back on his feet.”

Their conversation was interrupted by an anguished cry outside the front doors. A moment later, both doors swung open, admitting a large, muscular grey-black wolven wearing brown trousers, ripped short at the knee. The shreds of a shirt hung from him like a vest. He looked around the room slowly before speaking. “A party, and I wasn't invited?” He strode forward confidently, curling his upper lip and bearing canines that glistened with saliva. He stopped half-way across the room and locked his gaze on Vargon, who returned the cold, spiteful stare. If the wolven had been feline-natured, he would have purred in pleasure. “And I cannot express how pleased I am to find you here.”

Vargon growled softly, though the sound seemed to fill the room.

“Draxis.”

Vargon remained seated, though his eyes never left the wolven. “Brave move, Draxis, coming onto kindred lands alone. Brave … or foolish.”

“Alone?” The alpha wolven snarled. “Laerf, Pozzt, here. Now!”

Two lanky wolven sauntered in the main doors, one grey over white, the other a ruddy brown over white. Both smaller in stature than Draxis, they each wore the same type of attire, though one had no shirt. They entered to stand just behind the big wolven, one on each side. The grey one wiped his bloody jaw with an arm before speaking. “Yes, Alpha Master.” Draxis pointed to the door to the kitchens. “Laerf, check beyond that door for anything else moving. Whatever you find you can eat. Pozzt, close and bolt those doors. I don’t want any surprises.”

Pozzt whimpered. “Why does Laerf get to eat when…” He was cut off mid-sentence as the alpha male spun, connecting the back of his hand with the ruddy one’s jaw. The smaller one flew back, landing just inside the front doorway. He stood and groveled as he moved, hunched over, to follow out the orders given.

The one called 'Laerf' came in from the kitchens. “Many warm bodies back there, Alpha Master. But none moving, think all sleeping. Shame. Would like snack.”

Draxis motioned toward the balcony. “Move that piano against the doors, put it so it won’t move. I want that exit sealed.” He turned back to Vargon. “You were saying something about my coming alone?”

Stefano winced as Laerf shoved the piano against the battered doors, then flipped it up on its shorter edge. The lid side now faced the room with the legs firmly against the doors. “Be careful with that, oaf!” Stefano’s voice rang with authority. Laerf turned and snarled, then stopped short. He paused only a moment, then began to slowly move forward, not taking his eyes from the prince, almost as if stalking prey.

Draxis laughed. “It keeps getting better. Vargon no longer Prince and instead a child, an upstart, has the throne? Any more surprises, Vargon?” He moved a little closer and sniffed at Odessa. “Like who this enticing flower is.”

“Stay clear of my wife, Draxis.”

“Wife?” The alpha howled. “Oh, friend, I shall stay clear. For now. But once I have removed one of your legs … or both … you can watch as I plant her with my seed.”

Vargon started to stand but Stefano spoke. “Sire. No.” Vargon shot him a look of displeasure, but the alpha male caught the reference. The wolven walked to the bar and leaned on it, choking on laughter that seemed foreign to his speech. “A family gathering. I could not have wished for better.” Suddenly he turned and snapped at the smaller grey intruder. “Laerf! Get back. What are you doing? Move away from the kindred!”

“But, Alpha Master. I need to see…”

“You need to see nothing. Get here to my side and prepare for battle. If you are so keen on the prince, I'll let you kill him.”

“No, Alpha Master.” Laerf started backing away, his eyes still locked on Stefano. “I … I cannot do that.”

“You dare disobey me?”

Laerf whimpered. “I cannot. I … I will not.” He spun with a glint of light and leapt for the front doors, throwing the bolt clear. The left door groaned on its hinges as he almost tore it free ripping the door open. As fast as he had leapt to the doorway, he was through it faster yet.

“Fool. I shall deal with him later.” Draxis turned back in time to catch a look pass between Stefano and Gerik. “Oh please tell me yes, this pup is offspring of the prince.” He faked a lunge at Gerik who darted to Stefano’s side. “Yes. My pack shall sing of this night for centuries to come. Pozzt. You may have that one.”

The ruddy wolven walked forward, sniffing the air. “Smells good, Alpha Master. Fresh. Will enjoy much. Thank you, Alpha Master.” He jumped toward Gerik as Stefano leaned to one side and grabbed the fireplace poker. However, before he was able to use it, a bright red light flashed across the room, striking Pozzt. The wolven tumbled through the air and crashed into the bar. Draxis looked at his now-unmoving youngling before slowly turning his gaze toward the group. Beyond them, leaning against the far corner, stood Viktor, one hand clutching his side, eyes glowing with the same red light witnessed earlier.

“I had forgotten about you, magic-user. Forgotten how Vargon never travels without you with or near to him. Yet you are different, you don’t look as healthy as last time I saw you. In fact, I would say you look rather helpless. Perhaps that little jolt was the end of your powers. Perhaps I shall rip your throat from your body.”

“You might want to think before you make that move, flea hound.” The words were spoken slowly, and in pain, but all of Viktor’s discipline shone through them. Everyone’s attention turned to the bar as a wounded but living Pozzt moaned and stood slowly, using the bar as support. Blood splattered from his lower lip, one canine and three molars lay on the floor in pieces.

Stefano paused only a moment before he moved in a blur, surging to the alpha male and swinging the poker. But instead of connecting with its intended target, the metal rod was snatched in mid swing by Draxis’ left hand. His right grabbed Stefano by the throat. “Not wise, little boy.” He threw the kindred away from him, sending him across the room, crashing into the piano. Gerik moved by instinct to his lover’s side, cradling the now unconscious prince close. Draxis spun, his eyes on Vargon as the once-prince limped forward. “Wounded as well. You are full of surprises tonight. Sit. Or that delectable piece is mine.”

Odessa grabbed Vargon's hand and pulled him back to her side.

The alpha wolven turned his attention back to the injured prince when a cry of wrath and hatred sounded behind him. Before he could react, Draxis felt Jence’s full weight strike his back. He stumbled forward, but maintained his footing enough to keep from falling. He reached a hand up over his shoulder to grab at the struggling kindred. His howl shook the rafters as he fought, unable to get a firm grasp but shredding the kindred's shirt and back. Jence shot a fleeting look at Stefano. “My Prince. I have erred. Let this atone.” He swung an arm around Draxis' body; a silver dagger flashed in his hand. The blade sang as it sliced open the air and embedded itself into Draxis’ chest. The wolven stumbled once more, then fell forward. As he hit the floor, the hilt of the killing instrument was driven deeper, ensuring his demise. Jence’s body rolled to the side to lay beside the wolven, a steady flow of blood from the reopened wound on his temple. . Then suddenly, all was quiet.

Vargon stood and moved to Viktor’s side, helping him to sit. Viktor shook his head. “No. Go. Tend your chylde.” Vargon motioned to Odessa who took his place with the manservant before he moved quickly to the crushed piano. As he knelt beside the two kindred, Stefano's eyes quivered open. “Gerik, the light…”

“I know, my love. I saw it too.”

Vargon arched a brow. “Saw what? What light? What are you two on about?”

Gerik held Stefano against him. “Lord Vargon. The wolven. The grey one. When he left there was a flash of blue light. A single, rapid flash.”

Vargon shook his head, still confused. “I did not notice. But what of it? What significance has a flash of light?”

Stefano spoke in a voice filled with anguish and laced with exhaustion. “It means he lives, Sire. Nikolos . . lives."