Requiem for a King [MxM]

Petals and Bells

It will find you.

Quintus' words echoed through Gavrael's head. The assurance didn't bring him any comfort. If his memories were half as lost as he was, then he'd be better off starting a new life than trying to recover his old one. He tried his hardest to focus on the fog clouding his mind, will it to part, show him something, but he'd only succeeded in giving himself a headache. He felt lost, adrift in a nameless sea with no sign of land in sight and no one to throw him a lifeline.

Quintus was good for small talk, at least. They'd been walking for what felt like an eternity through a thick forest. His instep burned from the long trek and his back hurt from lugging his heavy bag the whole time. But he dared not complain. Quintus had walked just as far and lugged around that crucifix that looked four times as heavy. On occasion, he'd start humming a somber melody, like he didn't have a care in the world. He had a nice voice, Gavrael had to admit, low and smooth with a comforting warmth.

Gavrael hiked his bag a little higher on his shoulders and dabbed at the sweat on his head. The air was cool and crisp and smelled of turned earth and pine. This part of the forest lacked underbrush, since only the barest slivers of sunlight penetrated the canopy.

"Need a break?" Quintus asked as he passed Gavrael a flask of water.

Gavrael shook his head and took a swig. "No, I'm alright. How much longer until we get to the waypoint."

"An hour or so, judging by the sound of the chimes," he replied. "Which is great, because that weather behind us looks nasty."

"The chimes? Is that some kind of euphemism?" He looked back and through the gaps in the canopy, saw the dark clouds hanging over the mountain range. A twinge of fear settled like a brick in his gut, yet he wasn't sure why. Had he been afraid of storms?

"No. There are..." Quintus' words trailed off, and he slowed to a stop, his gaze trained on the way ahead and a scowl tugging at his lips.

Gavrael looked around but saw nothing but the same red-barked trees and loose earth they'd been trekking over for hours. "What is it?"

"Damn it." He swiveled his head this way and that before his gaze finally settled on a tree off the side of the path. "Come here."

"Quintus, what's happening?" Gavrael asked as he followed him to the tree.

"Netherborne. They must have heard us." Quintus dropped his cross. "They're headed this way. I need to get you up into this tree."

Gavrael's heart rate doubled, and an itch crept up his back. Netherborne. He knew them, knew the trouble they caused, the death and destruction. "But I thought you said... What about you?"

"I'll take care of them. Come on." He dropped to a squat and cupped his hands. "I'll throw you up. Just grab on, alright?"

Gavrael blinked. Throw? He put a foot in Quintus' hand and braced a hand against his shoulder. The lowest branch had to be at least thirty feet over their heads. "Are you sure about this?"

"No time to find somewhere else. Try not to flail and don't forget to grab the branch."

That was all the warning he got before Quintus tossed him up. He sailed into the air as though he'd been launched from a cannon. His stomach fell and the vertigo from seeing the ground shrink beneath him made his head spin. Yet he managed, somehow, to hook his arm around the branch and pull himself up.

"By the gods." Even with the less than ideal state he was in, he couldn't be that light, and Quintus had thrown both him and his bag.

Below him, Quintus stepped to the middle of the path and produced a small silver bauble from his pocket. I'll take care of them, he'd said, but Gavrael couldn't fathom how when he was bare handed.