Tomorrow's Shadow - Part II - Transitions

by Marcus Kruger

  ~ Storm’s Fury ~

  The storm surge pushed and pulled Stefano 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. 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 are using 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.”