Free Falling

Metal clinging against in battle, a horse whining in panic, and a soft
man’s voice yelling out filled the golden prince’s ears long before he
could see the battle. He leaned against a tree branch as he panted for
air. So he was not a runner, Henry preferred stalking and being
stealthy. Not running full head on into a fight like certain people.
Blue eyes looked up to see Roark, a irritable annoying little man that
had been working his nerves since day one, in his element. He moved like
a deadly dancer. White hair unraveled when slender fingers pulled out
the darts and spikes used to keep the long, soft, hair embellished with
beads, braided up and out of the way outside of the fight. He felt his
heart thumping hard against his ribs as he continued watching the
usually slow moving, lazy man throwing one knife into a man’s throat
while swinging the long blade of the sword to stop a bandit’s own knife
from doing the same thing.

“Henry, you dolt! GET OVER HERE!” Lucan’s voice rang out, his words
finally hitting the prince’s ears and bringing him out of the odd haze
he found himself in. Shaking his head to shake away the feelings and
thoughts that he rather not have of another man, let alone of ‘that’
man, he walked quickly to the healer’s side who was trying to keep the
horses calm or otherwise they would be stomping all over the small
brunette that was hiding behind them.

“Oh lord, he’s a simple one.” He muttered as he tried to grab the mane
of a small beige pony. “Steady girl, steady.” He held onto her long
snout petting it as he cooed her to calmness. “That’s a good girl, my
pretty, good girl.” He snapped his head to the right when he heard Lucan
cry out, the massive black horse had bucked him off, and he rushed in to
pull the boy out of the way; thanking Gods that Lucan crawled out the
way of large hooves coming down hard on the earth.

The massive giant horse snorted and broke out into a run, plowing any
still standing man down, the stranger, and Roark were wise enough to
just fall out of the way. Then Soar, just flew out of the foliage of the
dark forest like a creature of legend and hit against the massive black
horse in its side. The smaller horse kept smashing his head against the
other’s, harsh snorting as he kept the other horse from moving forward,
biting at its neck and shoulder when it tried to.

Lucan panted as he rubbed his sore chest and head from the horse pushing
him off. Rough-cut, shoulder length, dark tawny hair that covered his
dark eyes was brushed to the side with his hand just in time to see a
bandit with a broken arm and sprained leg, from the massive black horse
plowing into him, move to pull a dagger out of his fallen comrade’s
back. He was intent on jumping onto the tall stranger that joined in the
fight along side Roark, who just brushing dirt off of his shirt and
pants, and pulling a leaf from his dark hair. With a snap decision, the
healer felt around the earthy ground for a weapon and found a thick tree
limb and threw it with all his might, cracking the bandit’s skull when
it impacted against it.

The stranger turned around and looked at the fallen enemy who still held
the dagger in his death grip then looked at the black eyed healer with a
smile of thanks on his dark face. Lucan waved it off with a smile of his
own and pulled himself up. Immediately, he went on to check the frighten
boy in his prince’s arms. The boy was crying and trembling with a few
bruises and scrapes from when the mounts kept pushing him against the
tree in their own panic.

“There you are, its okay little darling.” Lucan took the boy from
Henry’s arms and used his dark blue tunic sleeves to wipe away the tears
gently before the boy pushed away and ran into the waiting arms of the
tall stranger who picked him up as he cradled the brunet boy against his
chest. A large hand rubbed into the soft short hair as he muttered
softly against the small cheek.

Roark walked over, bloodstained and dirty with leaves sticking in his
hair and clothes and pushed his brother away from the big black horse,
telling him to go comfort the small beige pony that was still upset from
the smell of blood and death in the air. The horse bumped his snot
against the man’s cheek before trotting over to nuzzle lightly against
the small pony. Roark reached up to gently rubbed under the large
creature’s jaw, cooing nonsense against his muzzle.

“You left anyone alive to question?” Henry walked up, no longer striking
awe about the smaller man’s skills as a fighter. He refused to think
about how angelic the other looked, against the beast of a horse with
his long white hair spilling over his shoulders and down his back, beads
and feathers tangled within.

The warrior nodded and led the large horse down to a spray bush to
nibble on. “I think one of the men that this big guy tackled through is
still breathing. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have him singing.” He
looked up with a happy cat grin but the blond prince shook his head and
rubbing his short blunt nails under the short golden hairs at the top of
the neck.

“Naw, Let me handle making that bastard sing, you just clean up before
you scare that boy there.” He nodded his head off to the little human
that clung to the dark stranger. “You look like a savage demon or
something.” The warrior raised an thin eyebrow at the comment and looked
down to rubbed a hand against the dark horse’s forehead. "There’s a
stream nearby, don’t take too long, we don’t know if there’s more out
there.”

Roark snorted a short laugh before stepping closer to the taller man,
arms folded against his chest, a thumb rubbing against a pendent on one
of his many necklaces. “You might need to come with me, Big Boy. Just to
wash, I mean watch my back for me.” He pressed on Henry’s chest with his
folded arms, the only thing keeping them from being chest to chest.

Then the cat-eyes widen as the sharp jaw was grabbed and his head was
force up as pale chapped lips were pressed against his own. Henry
chuckled as Roark was quiet and seemed to be in shock as he turned the
warrior around and pushed him forward. “I think you can handle it.”

Henry left the still shocked Roark to talk with Lucan about finding out
who was still alive, or, dead, and to question the ones that could still
talk. He was mentally beating himself up for kissing the white haired
loon. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched him walking away into the
night to clean the blood out of his clothes and pale skin. He did not
know why he kissed him. The blue-eyed man just had to do something to
shut his mouth. Why it had to be a peck of the lips, he did not know.
++

After a few hours, with Noel sleeping on Sam’s bed roll and ,the now
clean, Roark brushing down Soar, the other three were found around a
slowly-burning fire discussing their plans. A few days ago, Henry and
his hunting group plus one extra warrior came across a village being
raided by bandits. Feeling like they should stop the raid, Henry and his
group jumped in and fought as best as they could but the bandits were
winning and killed all but the three of them before suddenly leaving.
Roark was tracking them down while Henry tried to keep up and Lucan
handled the horses and the remains of the supplies, taking what was
needed and leaving the poor villagers with they could live without.

But these bandits after days of hard tracking, these bandits were not
like the ones they were fighting and losing to on that day. They were
the same men in an appearance sense but not in a physical one, they were
weaker and were much easier to beat with just Roark and Sam fighting
them. The three men factored in that they must have been tired and worn
out after days of being hounded and Roark was a skilled sword for hire
who was used to fighting under more hazardous conditions and Sam who was
fresh and alert. But the way the man that they was integrating was
speaking and looking had been like someone who was more afraid of being
caught snitching on his boss then being killed by a tall man that just
killed his comrades like nothing. And with one look at Noel, the bandit
escaped his binds, stole the dagger on Sam’s belt, and slit his own throat.

So after throwing the corpse on to the large pile of the ones that were
killed in the fight, they went on to questioning a few others but they
all took one look at Noel and killed themselves. One man even went as
far as to cut off his own tongue before gagging on his own blood and a
few moments later he was added to the pile of the dead.

“There’s something about Noel that has got these boys scared.” Sam
pointed out, digging a stick into the fire to keep it burning for a bit
longer.

“Where did you meet up with the boy?” Henry spoke, rubbing his thumb
under his lip in thought, looking at the dark man.

Sam shrugged. “In a cave. The boy couldn’t even walk right, can barely
talk. Hopped around on his hands and feet like a rabbit.” His ice-blue
eyes stared at the prince, wondering almost the same thing he was. “ The
boy isn’t anyone special, he just clung to me and I don’t have to heart
to push him away.”

“But you don’t know who he really is and where he truly came from.”
Lucan stated not questioningly but, as if he were stating a fact. “That
mark on his forehead, I've seen it before but I don’t remember the
meaning of it but I feel like it is important to this little mystery.”

The other two men nodded in agreement, both knew that the healer was
right but they couldn't do anything about it right then. The three of
them agreed to sleep on this thought and made plans to go to a nearby
town to see if someone there knew a bit more then they did. If there
were no answers there then they would figure out what to do then.

Henry watched from his spot on the far right of the fire pit as Roark
got settled down on his own bedroll, back against the tree trunk with
the dark bay horse close by, setting in to sleep. Fingers rushed up to
rub against his calloused lips as he thought once more of that soft
brush of lips. He groaned, wishing he didn’t give in to that feeling,
not when it was going to haunt him.

The songs and sounds of the crickets and night creatures filled the
midnight air, providing a gentle lullaby to the now five travelers. The
pale sideways ‘S’ on the sleeping boy’s forehead glowed in a pulsating
blue.
*******