Kronos' opponent was strong, but not well experienced in fighting with a sword, and this lack of knowledge cost him his life. The Immortal yanked his blood–soaked weapon out of the villager and gave a mock salute as the man fell to his knees.
"A good try. Perhaps with a few hundred years more practice you might have winded me, but as it is," Kronos shrugged noncommittally and left it at that. Giving the dying man no further thought, Kronos turned and sought out his brothers.
As he followed his Immortal sixth sense, he threaded past some huts and through the dead of the village. Despite a rather spirited and organized defense, the small community had still fallen to the legendary Four Horseman. Granted, it had not been the easy operation they had expected, the end results were the same. While Kronos was grateful for their effort, there was no one left to express his appreciation to. It had been a long time since he had had a good challenge and he found himself feeling bored, unsettled and in need of a change.
He turned a corner and spotted Caspian leaning against a tree. Sliced clothing, dark and wet with bloodstains, attested to the heavy fighting he had seen and he leaned protectively towards his right side. He nodded at Kronos and grimaced at the pain the movement caused.
"The others?" asked Kronos.
Caspian gestured towards an area thick with bodies. "There lies Silas; this is one battle he will be retelling the tale of for hundreds of years."
"And Methos?"
Caspian shrugged. "Last I saw, a group of villagers had him surrounded and he was being forced towards those trees."
Kronos nodded. "I will go see to him. Stay with Silas until he lives again."
Caspian snorted and winced once more. "Not a problem."
Caspian's horse lingered nearby and Kronos caught the reins and leaped upon its back. A quick kick sent the animal cantering in the direction indicated, the few dead mortals he passed attesting to the fact that Methos and the battle had indeed traveled this way. As he moved into the grove of trees, he was greeted by the sounds of fighting. He urged his horse faster as he heard Methos voice a sharp exclamation of pain and a curse.
The path turned and he could finally see Methos. His brother had been unhorsed, his mask was off and he was fighting on foot in a large cultivated field. Surrounded by four mortals armed with staffs, they circled him, searching for an opening in his defenses. Seeing that Methos was in no immediate danger, Kronos reined his horse to a standstill, suddenly curious to see how his clever brother would handle himself and this situation.
The men took turns jabbing at the Immortal with the ends of their staffs, their intent to exhaust the better armed man was obvious. Methos blocked a blow he saw coming, but the effort left him open to an attack from behind and he grunted from yet another painful impact along his back.
A slight shift in his stance alerted Kronos that Methos had decided on a change in tactics. Eyeing the battle, Kronos picked out a mortal that he felt sure was about to be the focus of Methos' attack. He was the biggest man with the longest reach; taking him out would be risky, but if Methos survived it, his chances to defeat the others would be significantly improved.
A sudden feint towards a young man flanking the suspected target caused the big man to rush to defend and brought him within Methos' range. Kronos smiled in satisfaction as his brother's sword flashed and ended the life of the big assailant. There was an angry shout and a retaliatory roundhouse blow to the lower legs swept Methos off his feet. He rolled straight into a crouching defensive position, but Kronos could see that Methos' strength was failing and the odds were good that he would be overcome soon. Deciding that he had seen enough, he kicked his horse to a trot and headed directly towards the fray.
As Kronos closed, a sharp blow from behind glanced off Methos' head and he landed hard on his side, dazed. The remaining three attackers rushed him and bombarded him with a flurry of vicious blows. They were so intent on their victim they made themselves easy targets for Kronos and he'd dispatched two of them before they even knew he was there. The third ran, leaving himself wide open for Kronos' deadly cavalry charge from behind. Having defeated all the attackers, Kronos guided his horse back to his brother.
Methos lay on his side, breathing heavily. "You took your time," he said, but there was no reproach in the words, his tone mild. "How long were you watching?"
Kronos chuckled and slid off the horse. "Long enough to see you need to spend more time sparing with Silas. Methos, they were only armed with sticks."
"Staffs. And they knew how to use them."
Kronos eyed the red stains on his brother's white linen clothes and decided they were not from wounds, but from the berry patch he was lying in. "It is the price you have to pay if you allow yourself to get separated from the rest of us."
"Not my choice," he said. Straightening out to roll over onto his back, he moaned as the movement caused some discomfort.
The fight had left Kronos excited and his restless desires from earlier itched at him with renewed vigor, stimulated by seeing Methos stretch and groan. Methos had a sensuality and grace that permeated everything he did and appealed to Kronos at the oddest times. Like now. The heat from the mid–morning sun filled the air with the sweet scent of the crushed fruit that surrounded them. The vision of Methos lying relaxed and unprotected at his feet stirred him and made his blood grow hot. Victory was a powerful aphrodisiac and the rights of conquest were as ancient as the urge to mate. He had defeated his brother's attackers and had earned the right to him. He knelt down beside Methos.
"It's been a while since I've needed to rescue you."
Methos stilled at the sudden change in Kronos' voice. He turned his head to get a better look at the man who towered above him. He could see the desire in Kronos' eyes, but what was it he desired? "True," he admitted carefully, wondering exactly what Kronos was in the mood for. His leader could be taken with strange whims and it did not pay to underestimate him.
The focus of Kronos' eyes moved to a point near Methos' mouth. "You know what the rules are," he said, his voice thick with distraction. "You know what price I demand in return for my protection."
Ahh…simple lust. Methos knew well how to deal with an amorous Kronos. "What about Silas and Caspian?" he said, moving his hand up to wipe away something wet and heavy from the side of his face.
Kronos gripped the forearm and pinned it to the ground near Methos' head. He leaned forward until he hovered directly above his newly–made captive. "They will keep. Caspian stands guard until Silas recovers," he murmured as he twisted about, his tongue reaching out to lick roughly at a piece of strawberry that clung to Methos' cheek. Another berry was smeared against the neck and he bent down to suck that one clean, too. "We've time, Brother."
Methos smiled smugly and lifted his chin to give his lover better access; this was one of Kronos' moods that was a pleasure to deal with. "Feeling hungry?" he questioned.
Kronos opened his mouth wide and let his teeth scrape the sweet fruit off, using his tongue to trace the bounding pulse as he rhythmically sucked the warm, tender flesh. He shifted again and captured Methos' mouth in a hard kiss.
Methos was surprised when his tongue encountered the strawberry still in Kronos' mouth and he avidly sucked at the sweet juice, delighting at the explosion of taste. He threaded his free hand through his brother's hair and, gripping it hard, forced him closer still, knowing that Kronos enjoyed aggressive loveplay.
When the need to breathe finally parted them, Kronos worked his knee between Methos' thighs and let his full weight rest on the slighter man, effectively pinning him to the ground. He grinned wickedly at his berry–stained captive, looking forward to satiating all his appetites. "For you," he admitted, "always."
He bent down to devour Methos.
END