Lord Bayon Regor paused, unwilling to continue.

     He looked at the moons overhead. They cast a white pall on the outer ward of Fallgard Castle, bleaching the moss ferns and the buildings. Rock crag bushes stood as silent witnesses around the gray stone wall before him. Their leaves drooped from lack of water.

     Lord Regor could delay no longer. He needed to perform one final duty.

     Pulling the bar out of its flanges and setting it aside, he pushed on the pale wood planks. The gate swung inward on well-greased ironwood hinges, revealing the small, enclosed plot.

     He stepped inside. The dry moss ferns crunched under his feet as he walked towards the stones, head bowed.
Lord Regor paused beside the first stone. He read the inscription—“Felix Sagill, first Minister of Security of Fairhaven, trusted friend.” A few more paces and he stopped at the next stone. It bore the inscription—“Melda Regor, beloved mother, my inspiration.” Then he turned towards the newest stone and stepped closer.

     The stone rose cold and hard from the moss ferns, as heavy as the weight on his heart. For a moment, it blurred in the moonlight. Lord Regor blinked his eyes until his vision cleared.

     The monument shone pure white, without cracks or flaws. It was the best marble in the land of Eighten. It would never break.

     He read the inscription—“Lord Kiril Regor, beloved son, light of our lives.”

     Today was the anniversary of his son’s death. Today was the end of the official mourning period. He had the duty to end his mourning before midnight, at least outwardly.

     The memorial for his son in the small drawing room was already dismantled and the black drapes taken down from every room in the castle. From now on, he must resume all the activities of a normal life.

     Traditionally, any statement Lord Regor made tonight over the grave of his son would have the authority of a commission order. This was the highest type of command in the land, except for the orders of the Planetary Director. The commands would be for him alone if no one else was with him.

     Slowly Lord Regor stepped forward, unclipped the black mourning band on his right arm and laid it over the grave stone, making sure it was centered and laid smoothly.

     “I’ll never forget you, son,” said Lord Regor. “And I promise I will pursue the ones that killed you, until they are all dead.”

     He heard a slight rustle from behind and turned towards the gate. The doorway was empty. No one moved in the ward outside. The only sign of life was the chirping and buzzing of the night insects that filled the warm air. He must have been imagining that he heard something.

     Lord Regor looked once more on the grave of his only son. Killing dangerous animals was one of the duties of the lords. At fifteen, Kiril was nearing the age for assuming adult responsibilities. Even so, if Lord Regor had listened to his wife instead of insisting on Kiril coming with him on that dragon hunt, he would still have a male heir.

     Taking a deep breath, he looked at the nearby stone.

     “I’m sorry that I failed you, Mother. I know you wanted me to found a dynasty that would carry our name through the generations. Now it cannot be.”

     With his only son dead, the title would pass to his daughter and thereby to her children after she married. 

     The name of Regor would die out.

     Bitterly Lord Regor reflected on events after the dragon hunt. Though he was the Duke of Fairhaven, he had been unable to help his injured son. In desperation, he flew Kiril to the hospital on Lord Benefactor’s Island and begged the Planetary Director for help. Lord Benefactor Egon Seaval was the most powerful man in the land. 

     Even he and his doctors could do nothing. Kiril had slipped out of life several days later.
If this had been a high technology planet with the latest medical advances, thought Lord Regor, Kiril might have lived. Eighten was a frontier planet, lacking the abundant metal ores needed for building a technology based society. The company that owned Eighten only shipped in the minimum supplies needed to keep the production facilities running.

     Nothing here could bring his son back from death. Lord Regor needed a ruler with more influence than the Planetary Director.

     Last month, someone told him about a group of people who believed there as a higher power that controlled the universe. Until now he had not thought about these things, but he had nowhere else to turn.
He faced the grave of his only son and raised his eyes to the stars.

     “I don’t know if you exist or not. But if you do, I would do anything—anything—to get my son back.” 
 

© 2003 Cathy Brunson. All Rights Reserved. 
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