Tomorrow's Shadow - Part III - Full Circle

by Marcus Kruger

  ~ Aftermath ~

  Stefano stood on the wet sand, wearing just his trousers. The waves lapped at his bare feet, threatening to bury them as each rush of water stirred the ground beneath him allowing him to slowly sink into the sand. He could feel the pain of Gerik’s extinguishing as clear as the dawn when it happened. Sorrow over the youth’s death had turned to anger as Stefano believed Gerik had purposely been caught by the sun.

  Anger consumes me, and I care not. He allowed himself to greet the sun. My chylde, my love, decided death was better than being with me. But is that reason enough to end everything that has been done? To stop visiting the regions and camps? To destroy the great room? The disappointment in Viktor’s eyes was palatable when he entered and saw the remains of the harp strewn around the room. How I managed to not break the stained glass doors is a complete mystery.

  Sweet Fates, the bar. The expense to replace the drink is more than enough, but finding the blood liquors is nigh impossible. I’m surprised after all I’ve done of late that Viktor has not resigned and left. I must commend him, though. My rooms appear as they did before my rage. Of course, there is still my office. I cannot simply allow entrance just to clean and then prohibit again, so restoring it remains my responsibility alone.

  The distant rumble of thunder grabbed his attention and he focused on the horizon. Incoming storm. I wonder who’s fury will prove greater, mine, or that of the Fates. He shook his head. Fury of the Fates – I have never understood it nor shall I. If all of life, indeed, all of existence is in their grasp, what could they possibly have to be angry about? If someone rejects their laws or them completely, how could it disturb a hair on their heads? Even death bows to the Fates. If they are angry with someone, they could simply end them. He watched lightning flashes as the ominous clouds billowed ever closer. No, they have no reason for fury. Indeed, they have no right to fury.

  The thought barely reached his mind when a lightning flash struck the nearest stone jetty, sending shards of stone into the sea as if someone were sowing seeds.

  Then again, mayhaps it is not my place to question their rights.

  He was jolted from his dark musings by a deep voice reverberating against the stone cliffs.

  “Viktor said I would find you here.”

  Stefano half smiled but didn’t bother turning around. “Well met, Sire. I trust your journeys have been fruitful? Has Odessa found that for which she yearns?”

  Vargon frowned. “I am sure she will worry your ears off with her tales later. At this moment I am in need to speak with my Prince. That is, if he can give the time to even turn and address his sire.”

  “I am weary, Father. Tired and worn. I need respite from the demands of the night.”

  “It has been over two wolfmoons since Gerik’s termination. It is time for the Prince to pick himself up and tend to more important matters.”

  “My heart is not important?”

  “Not more so than your subjects. You have kindred who depend on you, who need the wisdom and rulings of their Prince. People to whom you gave your word of protection and justice.”

  “I am aware, Father, however…”

  “No. No more ‘however’. No more ‘wait’. Now, my chylde. It is time you retook your place. Unless you want me to petition your subjects for your replacement.”

  “What?” Stefano’s interest perked.

  “You have been absent for long enough. If you cannot be a prince, we need find someone who can.”

  “You can do that? Replace me?”

  “If your people wish, yes.”

  Stefano pulled his feet from the ever-piling sand and turned to face Vargon.

  “I do not wish to be replaced. I shall do what is necessary.” He bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Sire. Your words have always had a way of changing my life.

  Vargon chuckled softly, all frustrations faded. “As should be, first chylde. Come then. Return with me to the world of the undead. Mayhaps my wife will tell you of a certain bone fragment.” He paused as his son passed him to lead up the steps. “Though we shall wait while you … freshen yourself. You smell like an old tomb.”

  “Yes, Father.” Stefano stopped and turned around to face his sire. “My life would be nothing if you hadn’t stepped into it time past. I know I have thanked you before, but I do again. I sadly admit there are times I forget, and it should not be. At least, not for extended periods of time.” He stopped and blinked moist eyes. “It has truly been over two wolfmoons since his ending. I had lost all track of time; I was unaware of the depth of my sadness and anger.”

  Vargon simply made a motion indicating he wished to continue up the stairs. Stefano turned and dutifully climbed them, for the first time in nights, without dragging his feet.

  When they walked in from the balcony, Odessa and Viktor both turned and smiled at the Lord of the Keep. Odessa stood and headed across the room until Stefano held up a hand.

  “Wait, sister-of-blood. I need to … cleanse from the sea. According to Sire, I smell like ‘an old tomb’.”

  She shrugged. “What do I care? I am happy to see you, and looking alive. I wasn’t sure the way Viktor spoke.” She finished crossing the room and embraced him briefly before stepping away and waving a hand. “Vargon is correct – you do smell like an old tomb. With a rotting corpse.”

  Stefano just laughed. “Alright, I understand. I shall be back soon. Please do not begin the celebration without me.” 

  As he disappeared up the stairs, Odessa and Viktor both turned to Vargon and asked in unison, “Celebration?”

  Vargon shook his head, laughing. “You need ask my chylde. I have no idea of what he is speaking.”

  Upstairs, Stefano closed his door behind him then collapsed on his bed in tears. Gerik, I shall never understand how you could sit and wait for dawn instead of returning to our home, to my love, and talking things through. I thought we had finally bridged the argument when our love allowed us to connect across the island. He sat up and undressed. When he stepped into the shower he allowed the deluge to wash over his face before he turned around. As he washed he began to feel as if heavy weight was melting in the water, running down his shoulders, over his body, and into the small trench cut into the stone to drain the water outside and over the cliff face. Sire is correct, of course. I am behaving as a child, in many ways more prideful and arrogant than the one I mourn. And to what end? He stepped out of the cascading water and grabbed a towel to dry. There is no purpose in it. He is gone. He ended and I shall never know why, or how I lost his love. If I ever truly had it. But it is past. It matters not any longer. Gerik is gone and I remain. I have lost too many in my life, but I shall not lose myself. I am Prince and I shall exist as such.

  The great room shook as the ceiling overhead rumbled. Everyone glanced up; worry darkened Odessa’s fair complexion.

  “What just happened.”

  Vargon smiled broadly. “Our Prince has returned.”

  A short while later Stefano descended the stairs, humming softly, as a runner stepped in from the kitchens and handed Viktor a missive. The manservant waited until the Lord of the Keep looked up before he held out the paper. “For you, Master Stefano.”

  “Thank you Viktor. Would you please prepare a cognac for me?” He looked at the missive. “I have expected no word from anyone.”

  “Then open it, Stefano,” Odessa said. “Rather than keep all in suspense.”

  He laughed as he broke the seal. He read down the page then stepped backwards and sat. He received his drink from Viktor and took a long sip.

  “Is it there a problem with one of the lands?” Vargon inquired.

  “No,” Stefano answered. “Nothing like that.”

  Viktor looked closely at Stefano. “Do you need to respond? The runner is here, she will not depart until the morrow in order to find rest.”

  “What is in the missive, brother of mine?” Odessa cut in. Her voice carried the edge of urgency.

  Stefano looked down at the mi
ssive in his hand. He shook his head and laughed wryly. “One must appreciate the will and humor of the Fates.” He downed the rest of his drink and handed the empty glass to his manservant for refill. He then looked at the curious faces before him.

  “Nikolos is engaged.”