Tomorrow's Shadow - 6. Regrets and Hopes

Flames flared as Stefano’s glass broke in the fireplace. His face was a contortion of confusion and rage, the crimson of the fire echoed in his eyes. “How could he decide to do such a thing? Take a wife? After so many generations alone suddenly he needs companionship? Am I nothing but a hindrance now – is this why he has planted me here?” He ran a hand through the waves of his hair slowly, pacing.

“M’Lord, mayhaps if ye sat a moment… Let me fix you a fresh cognac.”

“I do not wish to sit. I wish to walk, and yell, and break things.” With that Stefano grabbed the fresh glass and threw it also into the fireplace. He seemed to relish the sudden burst of heat as the alcohol ignited.

"’Tis better to throw a temper tantrum, instead? Ye sound jealous.”

Angry eyes settled on Viktor as Stefano spun to face him. “I am not some child. I realize you may work for my sire but I still manage what happens under my own roof. And no servant will speak to me in such a manner.”

“M’Lord, truly, I ….”

“Just …” frustration filled the young kindred’s eyes as his tone softened. “… just give me some time. I am sorry.” Stefano turned and walked to the balcony, fading into shade and shadow before his foot hit
the cedar planking.

Viktor sadly shook his head. He finished tidying the bar area then headed for his room. Once inside, he bolted his door and sat cross-legged on the floor. His eyes closed and peace filled his face. Master Vargon ... we need to speak.
---
The tide tugged against his muscles as Stefano swam out from the beach. Too much was churning through his mind; swimming was one way he was able to empty himself of everything except the motion of him through the water. This was even more true when he swam against the rising tide. Moving just beyond the breaking waves, his moves became effortless – a dance lost in the moment. Married. Why would Sire wish to marry? He has been alone for generations. He spotted a narrow jetty and began to swim in earnest towards the stone outcropping. Like an otter he glided through the cold waters. He slowed as he neared the rocks and judged the tide flow. He made a slight adjustment to his angle of approach before swimming the remaining distance and climbing out of the sea onto one of the larger boulders. Moonlight danced off his naked form as he climbed to a mossy covering and sat, his gaze absent and unfocused toward the horizon. Is Viktor right? Am I jealous?
---
Vargon finished washing up at the river bank when he felt Viktor’s request. He grabbed a large amount of dry grasses along the shore and dunked them in the water before he walked up to his camp site. He moved to stand before the fire and tossed the wet grasses on the flames. As smoke began to billow he stepped back and let Viktor know he was ready. Let us talk, my friend. White smoke spun and twisted, slowly taking the form of a man. Eventually the shadow image of Viktor stepped forward; smoke continued to twist and spin in the shape. Vargon did not wait for his friend to give reason for reaching out. “Is something amiss at the Keep? Is my chylde all right?”

When the image of Viktor spoke, the voice was soft and ethereal, yet carried the tone and authority of the man’s voice, making it instantly recognizable. “He is well, Master Vargon, but he mourns the news of your wishing to wed.” The man’s voice had a light echo, as if from a cavernous space.

“I do not understand – why would Stefano mind my taking a wife?”

“I know not, m’Lord, only that his heart aches and his temper flares.”

“Temper? He has no temper.”

Viktor laughed and his image wavered and shook as if a breeze had come through. “I am sorry, m’friend, but your chylde has a strong will and volatile anger.”

“In what way could he be ‘volatile’?”

“I will simply say I may need to restock the glasses over the bar.”

Vargon stood quietly a moment before responding. “I must contemplate this news. Do you advise my return?”

“No, dear friend. Stefano has gone to the beach, most likely a swim, to regain his composure, I imagine. I felt you would wish to know.”

“I had felt an unease, but thought it was perhaps he had not fed yet. I take it I was incorrect. Thank you for telling me. It has been a long time since last we spoke this way.”

“Indeed, Master Vargon. As ye are at peace with this, I shall release the connection and speak with ye another time. Farewell.”

“Until next time, Viktor.” As the manservant's image spiraled into nothingness, Vargon bent to pick up a large stone and tossed it out to the middle of the stream. He sighed as the sound of the splash hit his ears. Not at peace, dear friend. Not at peace. The question is, what is to be done.
---
Stefano stretched as his body called for nourishment. He stood, dove into the water, and swam back to the beach. He walked the small sandy knoll until he was fairly dry, then slipped on his pants before walking barefoot up the stone stairs to the balcony. His eyes swept the grand room as he entered. He smiled at the dimmed lights and low fire, understanding Viktor had retired for the night. He muttered under his breath. “Oh my friend, how I regret my earlier outburst. I shall try to make amends later.” He slipped into his shirt before turning to step back on the balcony. Running fingers through the snarled waves of his hair he stepped into the shadows, headed for the mainland to feed.

Inside the great room, Viktor stepped from the shadows behind the harp. There are no amends necessary, but we shall discuss it when he is ready. With that thought he stepped back behind the bar, withdrew the ledger from underneath, and started to review the monthly expenses.
---
Far from the island, beside a rustic wagon, Vargon paced the ground. How shall I tell her? And will she ever understand?

Early the next evening, Stefano descended the stairs slowly, his mind already on the needed apology to Viktor. His soft walker shoes made almost no sound against the wood. He had chosen tight trousers, what Vargon would call “second skin” attire – they were his normal black and were topped with a ruby colored peasant shirt. The laces of the shirt hung open, much as his sire would wear. His hair looked like it might have seen a brush lately, but for the most part waved as it wished, some falling over his left eye. Having woken in a strongly sensual mood, his attire and poise reflected his carnal leadings; his walk was almost predatory. Shadows swirled in his ebony eyes, giving a stimulating finish to his appearance. He paused only briefly at the bottom of the stair before striding across the room towards the bar. “Viktor, I would like to have a word.”

The administrator of the Keep bowed at the waist, mischief dancing in his bright green eyes. “M’Lord, I trust ye are well this fine eve.”

Stefano stopped short, “If I thought you seriously felt you needed to bow, we would have much more to discuss. As it is, since I know and trust you, I wish to sincerely apologize for my brutish behavior yestereve.”

Viktor smiled. “Apology not necessary, but happily accepted, m’friend.” He paused to allow his eyes time to roam over the kindred’s form. “Ye look almost decadent.”

“Good. I feel almost decadent. A glass of the house cognac.” Asking for a “house” drink was a clue to Viktor he wanted the “natural” liquor, and not the private blood-cognac.

Viktor poured a gracious amount into a snifter and set it on the bar. “Do ye have plans for the evening?” He barely finished his question when the front door opened. The newly-hired footman stepped in, followed by Gerik Falow.

"M’Lord, the young Master Falow to see you."

Stefano stood and brushed at his shirt. "Thank you. You may return to your post."

"As you wish, m’Lord." The footman stepped back out, closing the door behind him.

Stefano glanced back at Viktor and spoke softly. “To answer your prior question, I am have planned for a ride with Gerik.” He turned and smiled as he walked across the room, his drink still in hand.

Gerik bowed his head in greeting. He was dressed in riding boots and trousers, both dark. His shirt was a soft blue that caught the dark sea-blue of his eyes. His hair had the finished look one would expect
from one of the “houses” of the mainland – a direct contrast to the wantonness of Stefano’s.

“Gerik, I am glad you made it. Would you care for anything before we head for the stables?”

The younger man returned the smile as his eyes raked over Stefano’s form. “I’ll have whatever that is you’re drinking. You look ... that is, your drink looks enticing.”

“Another cognac, Viktor.” Stefano walked back to the bar with Gerik. If he had noticed the slip in Gerik’s statement, he gave no indication of it. Viktor finished pouring the drink as they each slid onto a stool. He handed the drink to their guest before stepping back to the far side of the bar, busying himself with checking stock and glassware. “I thought we’d ride to the far side of the island and back. It’s a beautiful evening, the air is cooling and the stars are brilliant. Maybe two hours, depending on whether we stop to catch any views.”

“Sounds grand.” Gerik took a sip of his drink. “I trust it won’t matter that I haven’t been on horseback for a few years now.”

“Not at all. I have planned for you to be atop Shadow. He’s a strong gelding, but well reigned. Definitely a meek animal. I think you’ll enjoy him.”

“Meek? How is a horse … ‘meek’?”

Stefano chuckled softly. “Apologies, I tend to rate my horses as did the ancient Romans. They classified the best war horse as a meek animal – power under control. It is in later times that the word meek became … less than desirable.”

“A history lesson as well as a fine ride? I hadn’t planned on being schooled.” He winked at Stefano.

“If you have something you wish to learn, I will do my best to give thorough instruction,” countered the Lord of the Keep. Viktor barely raised his eyes to look at Stefano and grin before returning to his duties. Stefano finished the last sip of his cognac. “Are you ready then?”

Gerik gulped down the last of his drink. “Let’s go. I’m eager to ride again.”

Stefano headed for the door with Gerik but paused to look back at Viktor. “We will most likely wish a warm drink when we return, Viktor. I’ll let you dream up which to serve.”

“As ye wish, m’Lord. I shall be prepared for your return.”

Gerik’s eyes roamed the surrounding areas as they strolled down the small slope toward the stables. Stefano had contracted the building a few months prior and had the horses shipped in only a week earlier. The exception was his stallion, which he had brought to the island the minute the stables were ready. “Your lands are wonderful, Stef. I may call you Stef? Or would you prefer Stefano?” He
laughed. “Or as my father would say, ‘the grand and noble Lord of the island’.”

“Stef is fine … if it is just the two of us. I would not wish all the houses of Atterstock being so informal.”

“Just the two of us it is, then.” Gerik grew quiet as they approached the large stables. Two liverymen walked out, each leading a horse. Gerik's mount was indeed a soft grey gelding, quiet in nature. Stefano’s stallion, however, almost pranced out, snorting as it danced side to side, as if it would bolt given half a chance. When the horses drew close, Stefano reached out his hand and gently stroked the horse’s forehead; it immediately quieted down. The men each mounted and started off in a gentle walk toward the top of the knoll. Once there, Stefano took the lead and moved the horses into an easy lope, allowing them to still converse. He took every chance to study Gerik, his poise in the saddle, the easy way he spoke, and the rhythmic rocking of his body as they moved. They rode along the eastern line of cliffs, the lights of the mainland in the distance.

Gerik grinned at Stefano and asked, “This is good but I think we should try something a bit faster?”

“Faster?”

“Absolutely. Let’s race to the top of that far rise, just before it drops off. See how Shadow holds his own against … Stef, I don’t think you’ve told me your stallion’s name.”

“I must have had something else on my mind. My apologies. My steed is ‘Zarchos’. And are you sure about this race idea?”

“I’m sure.” Gerik spurred Shadow and gave him reign. The horse bolted, going into full gallop, head down, moving as if death itself was chasing.

Stefano laughed softly, then leaned forward and whispered in Zarchos’ ear. The horse sprang into action, quickly catching up to the gelding, but staying just behind him. Stefano continued to watch the young man in front of him, lust dancing in his dark eyes. They rapidly approached an area of half-buried boulders, several yards shy of the cliffs. Each horse leapt gracefully over any obstruction in their path. Gerik glanced back to check on Stefano’s closeness just as Shadow made another jump. Beyond the rock outcropping, out of sight, was a small depression, which caught rider and steed off guard. Both went down hard, the horse almost somersaulting completely before it rolled to its side and stood again, shaking its head. Young Gerik, however, was not as quick to rise. He was thrown hard from the horse and landed on his back. Although he landed on the grass, luckily missing all rocks, it still managed to knock the wind from him.

Stefano wrenched Zarchos to a stop and practically vaulted from the animal to Gerik’s side. He knelt slowly, peering into the man’s eyes, checking for awareness before he spoke. “That was an interesting way to finish.”

“Too… interesting… I’m afraid. Help me sit up, please.” Stefano offered an arm, but allowed the other to use his own strength. Gerik sat there and rubbed the back of his head. “That was a sensation I shall not soon forget.”

“I would think so. Can you ride?”

“I hope so. I do not relish a walk back. Here, let me stand.” Gerik half stood before almost falling back to the ground. He grabbed Stefano’s arm and
swore under his breath. “Then again … maybe not. My leg doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.” He moved it gingerly. “Hopefully not broken, but assuredly not able to hold my weight.”

Stefano moved to the side and knelt. He slid one arm under the man’s thigh’s, the other supporting Gerik’s back as he stood, holding the man comfortably against him. “Then you won’t be walking. And I wouldn’t trust the ride either, so you shall have to go second class.” He laughed gently as he started the walk back across the grounds to the Keep. The horses remained as they were, both head-down and grazing.

“You should just leave me here with Shadow and ride back for help.”

“I am fine, and you are in safe hands. We won’t argue it. I am carrying you.”

“Thank you”, Gerik whispered as he laid his head back against Stefano’s chest. His eyes closed as he relaxed in the other’s strong arms.

It was almost another hour before they approached the Keep. Stefano called out to the liverymen as they passed the stables, informing them where the horses were and instructing them to bring the animals back. He then turned and walked up to the heavy paneled door, which the footman opened in enough time Stefano’s stride didn’t even slow. He walked over to one of the larger sofas near the fire and gently lowered Gerik to the cushions. “Viktor, send for Dr. Malway. Tell him Gerik has had a fall. I realize he is on the mainland, but I want him here within the hour. If not sooner. We need not tell Lord and Lady Falow anything until we know the severity of Gerik’s injuries.”

"Yes, m’Lord.” Viktor grabbed a pad and jotted a quick note. He ducked his head into the kitchen and called a runner over to take the note. As he spoke, still in the kitchen doorway, his words were quiet, but the authority of his voice rang through. As he turned back to the room, he caught Stefano kneeling beside the sofa, brushing hair from Gerik’s forehead.

“I am sorry for the fall. I didn’t realize the ground changed so quickly past the last outcropping.”

“It’s my fault, Stef–fano.” Gerik barely paused before finishing the other’s name. “I should have been more watchful of where we were headed.” He grinned mischievously before adding, “I just wanted to get your attention.”

“You had my attention from the moment you arrived at Haven. And it is yours as long as you wish it.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Gerik’s forehead. “Let me get you some brandy. It will help you relax until the doctor arrives.”

Gerik reached up and lightly brushed Stefano’s cheek. “I am relaxed already. I doubt if it is a break, and I have never felt so … safe.” His eyes sparkled blue.

Stefano smiled as shadows swirled deep in his own ebony pools. “You will always be safe with me … always.”