FIC - First Knight (3/?)
Title: First Knight (3/?)
Author: wheelie47
Rating: NC17 (not for every chapter)
Pairing: Luke and Noah.
Word count: 2,190
Disclaimer: Don’t own characters, am not associated in any way with ATWT, Van and Jake. No offence intended.
Summary: Set in the fictional land of feudal Western Atlantia, King Damian has been overthrown and has fled the Kingdom of Oakdale. But his evil influence has spread across all eight Kingdoms. Lord Luke Snyder leads his army in an effort to bring peace and justice to a troubled time, aided in his quest by a certain dark-haired young knight…
Chapter 1, Chapter 2
With the decision to follow Noah’s advice and send out scouts having been made and imparted to his assembled knights, Luke strode from the command tent; determined to visit his men in the hospital.
“You may stand easy, Captain,” Luke said to Malek, the head of his personal guard, when he saw the man move ready to follow him.
A frown creased the Captain’s forehead. “But, my Lord, I have sworn…” he started, his tone a little disgruntled. He had already been dismissed once earlier today and he was determined to carry out his duty to protect Lord Snyder even if the man clearly did not want him or his men following him around.
“Yes… yes, I know.” Luke silenced him with a wave of his hand. “You have sworn to protect me against all dangers that might befall me. I am heading to see the injured, Captain. What possible dangers can befall me in the hospital?!” He knew Malek was only carrying out his duty but, really, did he have to be followed everywhere he went!
The Captain hesitated for a moment; he did not wish to speak ill of his superiors but Reid Oliver’s reputation preceded him everywhere he went. Certainly, Lord Snyder might not be in any physical danger visiting the hospital tent but the good physician was known to have an acerbic tongue in his head… often sending people scurrying out of his way.
In truth, Malek, who had been on the receiving end of such a tongue lashing, would desire nothing more than for Oliver to offend his Lord so that he could see the physician have a strip or two torn off him.
But, even so, he had sworn to protect his Lord, come what may. And protect him he would!
“My Lord, I…” He took a step forward, ready to follow the young blonde Lord regardless.
“I will accompany Lord Snyder, Captain.” A deep voice interrupted Malek and he turned to see Sir Mayer emerging from the tent behind them.
Turning to face Noah, Luke was torn between a frustration that people felt he needed accompanying anywhere by anybody and the desire to spend more time in the company of the handsome knight… a presence he now yearned for more and more each time they parted.
Malek looked uncertain. Sir Mayer’s reputation as a loyal and more than capable knight was well known. But, all the same, he had sworn an oath of protection to Lord Snyder.
Seeing the man’s doubt, Noah soothed, “Rest assured he will be perfectly safe in my company.”
“Fine!” Luke exclaimed in exasperation, frustration finally getting the better of him. He turned on his heels and strode away, leaving the two men to decide amongst themselves just who would catch up with him…
…
Stepping into the hospital tent, Luke felt a shudder creep up his spine. If he thought that the battlefield could be a godforsaken place then this was like hell on earth.
He would never get used to the scene that assaulted his senses every time he came here.
The screams and moans emanating from the injured always made him waiver in his belief that he was doing the right thing in carrying on his father’s quest to rid the land of the evil Damian and his kind had spread.
And the smell… the smell was enough to turn the stomach of the strongest constitution.
Luke tried to close his mind to all distractions and concentrate on the task in hand.
Turning his face to look at the tall knight next to him, Luke could see by Noah’s countenance that the man was equally affected.
“Come,” he said gently and indicated a man laid out in a cot nearest to them.
Kneeling on the ground by the side of the barely moving man, Luke gasped when the bandaged head turned toward him and he recognized Jon Simms, one of the longest serving and most loyal of the yeomanry, through the cuts and bruises that covered his swollen face.
“My Lord,” the battered man grunted out in pain as he struggled to sit up.
Luke placed his hand gently on Simms’s chest, taking care not to dislodge the bloodied bandage that was bound tightly around the broad torso.
“Lay back and rest.”
The soldier struggled momentarily before a small smile played across his lips and he sank gratefully back on to the cot.
“A couple of days, my Lord. Just a couple of days and I will take my place back in the ranks… you can count on it,” he murmured as his eyelids flickered shut.
Luke hung his head as another wave of guilt washed over him. If it was not for him then this man and so many more like him would be back at home with his family where he belonged.
He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.
“Do not, Luke,” Noah whispered, bending down as close to the blonde lord’s ear as he dared. “Do not do this to yourself. There is not a man amongst us who would not follow you where ever you lead us… and do so willingly.”
Luke only wished Noah’s words were true. There were rumors of spies in the camp. It was part of the reason that Malek and the men of his bodyguard wanted to be so vigilant.
But the knight’s words and touch were comforting all the same. And, as Noah kept his hand on his shoulder, Luke found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything other than the warmth radiating through the rough material of his outer shirt.
It took all of his self control not to reach up and grasp Noah’s fingers with his own and bring their joined hands up to his lips to kiss the man’s flesh again.
Instead he settled on twisting his neck to smile gratefully up at Noah.
Before either man could say another word, an annoyed expulsion of air distracted them both.
They turned as one to see Reid Oliver striding toward them. “I would be grateful, Snyder, if you could leave the men in my care undisturbed. It does not aid their recovery if you excite them.” He came to a stop in front of them and stood with his arms folded across his bloodstained leather apron in a stance that told Noah this was not the first time the two men had disagreed in this manner.
Noah felt Luke stiffen beneath his hand. The movement made him realize that he still had his hand on Luke’s shoulder and that they were now in full view of the physician.
Pulling his hand back, he gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword. “You should not speak to Lord Snyder with such disrespect.” His voice sounded low with warning as he took a step forward.
“What do you intend to do?” Oliver asked the knight, eyeing him critically. He knew well enough who Mayer was; a trusted knight and son of one of the most legendary military strategists. “Hit me over the head with your sword? Then who would care for these men who seem intent on putting themselves in harm’s way, chasing an impossible cause?”
“The cause is not impossible, Oliver,” Noah answered. “If you believed that to be the truth then you would not be here.”
“Rest for as long as you need,” Luke murmured to Simms as he gently patted his shoulder before he rose to his feet to stand next to the knight.
“If I were not here, Mayer, just who would stop even more of you from dying from your wounds?” Oliver retorted before turning to face Snyder.
“You Snyders should have been satisfied with banishing Damian from Oakdale. But once you began you could not cease and now we find ourselves here in some godforsaken kingdom fighting some distant cousin of his!”
Noah opened his mouth to respond but Luke spoke first.
“Look around you, Oliver. Look at the faces of the people here. Look at the ravaged land and the way these people live. Then tell me that King Aiden is not as tyrannical as Damian. We cannot leave these people to fight on their own. They came to our aid when we needed them. I will not break my father’s promise.”
Noah felt a pride building in his chest. He was deeply affected by Luke’s impassioned speech, realizing that if Luke cared as much about him as he did of the plight of the people here then he was a blessed man indeed.
“Nor can you fight every single person’s battle in Western Atlantia for them!” Reid snapped back.
“Now, if you will leave me to my work.” He turned on his heels and strode away muttering, “before you add even more casualties to the list.”
Oliver did not even break his stride when he bellowed at some poor aide to fetch him clean water.
Pausing at the end of a row of cots, he turned back toward the two young men and saw Mayer lay his hand on the blonde's forearm in what appeared to be an intimately soothing gesture as he spoke quietly before the two of them turned and left the tent …
…
Later that night
The man nervously fingered the cloth covered rectangular object. He hated using this infernal device but it was the only way he could contact his master quickly.
A knot of nervous excitement churned in his stomach. At moments like this, when he was about to gaze on his master’s countenance, he was always torn between wanting to look away in fear of the man and being transfixed and drawn to those eyes. Eyes that could look right into his soul and get him to do his master’s bidding… whatever that might be. He was utterly and hopelessly lost in the power of this man.
He looked around furtively, checking that he was, indeed, alone in his tent.
Satisfied, he reached out with trembling fingers and pulled back the black velvet covering to reveal a mirror shaped object. But instead of the glass showing his reflection as other mirrors would, its surface was inky black and reflected only the dancing flames of the candles in the man’s tent.
Licking his lips with anticipation, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on his master's features exactly as the sorcerer had instructed.
Still focusing, he opened his eyes and looked at the surface only to see the blackness begin to lighten and shift into swirling patterns.
He watched mesmerized as the image began to take shape and form into a recognizable face… Damian Grimaldi.
It was only when his master's features began to crease into an annoyed frown did he realize that he had not greeted him properly.
He immediately dropped down onto bended knee and bowed his head. “My Liege,” he said solemnly in a voice he hoped was subservient enough.
“I have told you never to disturb me in this way unless it is urgent!” The clipped and accented voice sounded clear from the image and the kneeling man did not even want to think about the dark sorcery that allowed this device to function.
He bowed his head a little deeper and muttered his apologies. “I am sorry, my Liege. But I have important news to report.”
“I will be the judge of whether your news is important or not. Tell me now and tell me quickly.”
The man looked up from his bowed position to risk a look at his master's image. His breath caught and his words died in his throat at those intense blue eyes staring down on him.
“Now!” the image barked at him in a tone that left no doubt as to the consequences that will befall the man if he did not speak now.
“I… I have news regarding Snyder,” he started and then recounted all that he had seen taking place between the blonde and Mayer that day.
Grimaldi’s face loomed closer. “Are you certain of what you witnessed?”
“I am. I am, my Liege,” the man confirmed, eager to please his master.
“Mmmm! This changes things. I can use this to my advantage.” Damian’s countenance shifted into a look of deep thought.
The silence grew large between them, interrupted only by the light breeze occasionally rippling the canvas and the muted sounds of men moving about their business further off in the camp.
The man's leg muscles screamed at him to shift his position but he dare not move… not until his master had dismissed him.
Appearing to reach a decision, Grimaldi’s face relaxed into a knowing smile. “Yes, very useful indeed. You have done well. Await my instructions and be ready to act at a moment’s notice.”
Then the image was gone, swirling out of focus until the surface was smooth and black again.
The kneeling man remained motionless for several long moments, still basking in his master's simple complement.
Eventually he rose to his feet and re-covered the device, an eager anticipation of soon discovering his master's plans flaring to life deep within his chest...
Chapter 4
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