Falling Warriors Series Collection (Books 1, 2 & 1.5)

by Nicole René

  She was going to regret this.

  The village was on fire.

  All around him was chaos, the screams of the women in the village almost drowned out the clashing of metal as the warriors defended themselves against the men attacking them. It was a fierce battle, but the Izayges tribe was filled with the fiercest warriors of Samaria, and they would not go down easily.

  Xavier’s eyes flashed wildly, taking in the scene around him as he tried desperately to locate his father or mother. He was on the verge of panic when he finally spotted his father fighting with a massive man wielding a huge hammer.

  His father’s clothes were almost as bloody as the sword he wielded, his face locked in a look of concentration. Though the man his father was fighting was big, Xavier knew his father was going to slay him.

  It only took a minute more before Xavier’s father ducked under the swing of the hammer and sprung up, swinging his body around. With ease, he delivered the finishing blow by severing his head.

  Xavier’s relief was cut short when his eyes spotted the man behind his father. An arrow aimed straight at him.

  “Father!” Xavier screamed loudly, running to him as fast as his seven-year-old legs could carry him.

  Xavier’s father whipped his head around, eyes darting through chaos around him before he spotted Xavier running towards him.

  “Behind you!” Xavier screamed again, but his warning came too late.

  Xavier watched in horror as the man holding the bow released the arrow and pierced his father’s back.

  Xavier’s father raised his eyes to his son’s, looking at him for what Xavier knew would be the last time.

  Goroth, Xavier’s father, looked up as a shadow fell over him, staring at the man in the eyes to bravely meet his fate. His attacker smiled, his rotten teeth showing as he readied another arrow to Goroth’s head for the finishing blow.

  “NO!”

  Xavier let out a scream of pained anger as he swung a sword at the legs of his father’s attacker, cutting them deeply.

  The man bellowed as he fell forward, catching himself with one hand on the ground. He slowly turned his head to look at Xavier, his lips curling above his rotten teeth in a deadly snarl. Xavier swallowed thickly, raising the sword up in front of him and trying not to show his fear as the man stalked towards him.

  He swatted Xavier’s sword away easily and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him until their eyes met.

  “Foolish boy,” he snarled, tightening his grasp on Xavier’s throat. “Now you die!”

  The man raised his sword high over his head, ready to cut Xavier in half when he suddenly jerked. Pain flashed across his face as he dropped Xavier.

  Xavier crumbled to the ground. He jerked back up, only to watch the man fall face forward as his uncle pulled out his sword from the barbarian’s back.

  Xavier scrambled to his feet and ran to his father, skidding on the grass to kneel in front of him.

  “Father?” Xavier asked shakily, putting his hand on his father’s shoulder.

  His father looked up at him weakly; blood soaked his chest and spilled over his lip.

  “Take care of your mother,” his father gasped out, blood spitting out with each word he spoke.

  “I will, Father,” Xavier promised thickly. He held his father’s eyes and watched as the life disappeared behind them, replaced with emptiness.

  Xavier bowed his head. A firm hand pressed on his shoulder, and he looked up into his uncle’s grave face.

  “Find your mother, and get out of here as fast you can,” Xavier’s uncle told him sternly. “Hurry!” he shouted, throwing Xavier forward just before he managed to block another sword coming down at them.

  Xavier raced forward, dodging fighting bodies in his search for mother.

  By the time the battle was over, all the invading men were either dead or driven away.

  Xavier blankly stared down at the corpse in front of him. The arrow protruding from the man’s throat was a sure sign he was dead.

  His mother’s bow was still clenched in his tiny hand. The battle won wasn’t without a price.

  That day, both of Xavier’s parents died.

  He failed. He broke the last promise he’d made to his father.

  That day, Xavier made his first kill at seven years old

  That day was the day Xavier lost his innocence and became the youngest and fiercest warrior in Izayges history.

  He had a fever.

  Leawyn stared at her Xavier, lightly dabbing the cool cloth over his hot and sweaty forehead. His condition had grown progressively worse since he was brought in four days ago. The arrow wound was ghastly; the red and black edges of the burn inflicted by Tyronian and Tristan to stop the bleeding was now covered in green pus.

  Signs of infection.

  Though no one said anything, Leawyn could tell they did not think he would survive.

  It was all over their faces.

  She leaned back, wiped an arm across her forehead and sighed. Her eyes closed in exhaustion. She had been awake all-night caring for her abusive husband. Why?

  She still had no idea.

  Her eyes opened at the sound of a low moan. Her attention turned back to Xavier.

  He was moaning in his sleep, his eyes flickering back and forth behind his closed lids. He was thrashing slightly, his hands clenched in tight fists.

  She watched him for a moment, her brows creasing. He gave another moan, jerking forward in the bed as if he were struggling against something. She leaned forward, tilting her head to the side to listen to his quiet mumbling, trying to make sense of the words.

  “Mother…!”

  She jerked in surprise at his coarse shout.

  “No...! Please...”

  At that tortured whisper, she couldn’t take it anymore. She leaned back and softly ran her hands through his sweaty and matted hair. When he continued to moan and thrash, without thinking, she started to sing softly under her breath.

  Go home,

  be free.

  Like a swift breeze across the rolling green plains,

  to the mighty mountain range.

  Lay down the bloody blade of the dead,

  lay ye weary head.

  Her voice was very soft, whisper-like at first, but it seemed to be working. Xavier’s struggles lessened. She sang louder.

  Fight the wind and the rain,

  fight against the pain in your heart. Be strong, be smart.

  Fight, you’ll see. You will come home to your mountains.

  Stay here now, between the green trees, your home waits for thee.

  Be free.

  Go home.

  Home to me.

  Finally, he stopped struggling completely, and his moans quieted on the last note.

  Leawyn sighed in relief and gently pulled the thick furs over Xavier’s body again.

  She stood, stretching her tired and sore limbs. She’d been cooped up in the tent for days, and she needed some air. She checked on her husband one more time, and seeing he was still resting quietly, she went outside.

  She was only a little startled to see it was nighttime. Most of the men were lying on the ground next to the fires. She looked to her right, seeing that her guard tonight was Hassef, a young man not much older than she. She smiled a little and shook her head when she noticed he was sleeping, soft snores escaping him.

  She hated to wake him, but someone needed to be with Xavier in case he woke up. Leawyn walked over to Hassef and shook his shoulder to rouse him.

  She stepped back when he jerked awake, bringing his sword up with him. He had a moment of confusion in which he looked at his surroundings. She had to giggle when he blinked up at her.

  “Lady Chief!” Hassef gasped, jumping to his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you there!”

  “Yes, I imagine it’s hard to notice anything when one is asleep,” Leawyn teased.

  Hassef’s cheeks had a slight red color to them when he ducked his head in embarrassment and shame
. “Sorry, Lady Chief. I-I failed in my duties.”

  She shook her head, resting her delicate hands on his shoulder. “I was merely teasing you, Hassef. I am not mad.” She gave him a reassuring smile when he looked up at her hesitantly.

  “I actually only woke you so that you may watch over Xavier while I get some fresh air,” Leawyn explained.

  Hassef looked up at her and frowned. “I should escort you then, Lady Chief. You shouldn’t be walking in the dark alone.”

  She shook her head. “That will not be necessary, Hassef. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own, and I’m not going to go far,” she reassured.

  When Hassef opened his mouth to disagree, Leawyn gave him a stern look. “You will allow me to walk by myself, and I will allow my memory to escape me and forget you were asleep on your watch post.”

  Hassef closed his mouth with a snap, glowering at her. “Not fair,” he mumbled, shoulders slumping.

  She smiled in triumph, patting his cheek lightly. “That’s the spirit! Now, go on, I’ll return shortly.”

  He sighed in resignation and started towards the tent. He turned around and gave her a strict look. “Be careful, and do not wander far, Lady Chief, I mean it.”

  Leawyn rolled her eyes and fluttered her hands over her shoulder. “Yes, yes, I know.”

  * * *

  Leawyn slowly made her way to where the horses were. She made sure her footsteps were silent so she didn’t wake the warriors scattered about the camp. Many would not be as kind as Hassef and would make her go back into the safety of her tent.

  When she was a few steps away from the horses, both Killix and Deydrey lifted their heads. When they saw her, they gave her a soft nicker in hello, reaching their noses towards her. Leawyn smiled and quickened her steps towards them until she could rest her hands on their soft muzzles.

  “Hello, you two, miss me?”

  Deydrey nudged her with her nose, while Killix blew warm breath on top of her head, causing her to laugh.

  “I’ll take that as a yes then!” She smiled, taking turns in petting Deydrey and Killix, both of whom were fighting for her attention.

  Since the night Xavier was attacked and returned to camp on Killix’s back, Leawyn and Killix became fast friends. Killix seemed to take an interest in her, and she was the only one besides his master he willingly allowed to touch him.

  The first couple of days he was the watch guard instead of one of Xavier’s men, for he refused to leave his master alone. Leawyn was sure he would have stayed outside the tent the entire time Xavier was sick if she hadn’t walked outside and made him stay with the other horses.

  Even still, she would sometimes catch him sticking his head into the tent to say hello and watch over Leawyn and Xavier.

  Leawyn shook her head in amusement at the memory, giving Killix a hard pat on his muscled neck before pulling her hand away. Killix turned his attention to Deydrey, nipping her side and causing her to kick her hind leg and whip her head around to nip him back, though she was a bit more aggressive with the “nip.”

  If Leawyn didn’t know any better, she swore she saw Killix smirk.

  Great. My husband’s horse has a crush on my horse.

  She rolled her eyes, stepping away from them in case things got more aggressive and not just playful.

  Leawyn shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked up at the sky. It had gotten increasingly colder, the ice surrounding the grass in the morning suggesting winter was fast approaching, and with it, snow.

  She jumped when something smooth and warm was draped over her shoulders. Tristan moved out from behind her and stood by her side.

  “Thank you,” Leawyn said softly, pulling the wool cloak closer to her body. He nodded in response and turned his attention to watch the horses.

  They stood together in silence, watching Killix and Deydrey interact before the silence was broken by Tristan’s husky chuckle.

  Leawyn titled her head to look over at Tristan. “What?” she asked, smiling.

  He nodded at the two horses. “Looks like Killix has a crush.”

  Leawyn looked over at Killix and Deydrey again. She watched as Killix came behind Deydrey, grabbed her long tail, and pulled back. He jumped away, throwing his head when Deydrey responded by pinning her ears back and turning to bite him.

  Leawyn laughed when Killix just trotted to Deydrey’s side and blew on her ears.

  “It seems you’re right,” she agreed, smiling at the stallion’s antics. “Let’s hope for Deydrey’s sake, Killix isn’t like his master in the ways of wooing women,” she added dryly.

  Tristan gave a short laugh. “Yes, I hope so too. But from the looks of things, he is very much like him.”

  “Poor Deydrey.”

  Tristan smirked again, turning his attention away from the two horses and over to Leawyn instead.

  “You should go back to the tent. It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

  Though he said it casually, Leawyn knew it was an order. She nodded, too tired to argue, and turned around, making her way back to the tent.

  Leawyn was close to crying in frustration. It had been almost two and a half weeks, and Xavier’s health showed almost no signs of improvement. It was a miracle he had survived this long.

  And with reasons unknown to her, that scared her.

  She scowled to herself, wiping Xavier’s shoulder a bit harsher than needed. What did she care if he died? If he died, Tristan would take command over the tribe, and she would be free of her bonds tying her to Xavier. She would be free again. She should be happy, hopeful even, begging the Gods and Goddesses to take his life.

  Yet, she was not.

  It was extremely confusing, and it infuriated her.

  Leawyn summed it up to her being a nice person. She’d always been too kind for her own good, according to Brees.

  She pulled her hand away and dipped the now warm cloth back into the cool water that was mixed with healing herbs. She reached over and touched the cloth to his arrow wound, gently swiping it around the infected area, making sure to dip it back into the clean water to wash it away before repeating the process.

  She was leaning over to soak the rag with the healing water again when her wrist was snatched up by a heated hand. The grip was tight, but not as tight as it used to be.

  Leawyn gasped, her heart leaping to her throat as she stared down into the dark, glazed eyes of her husband.

  “Xavier...?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  Xavier remained silent, staring at her with feverish eyes. She wasn’t sure if he even saw her, or if he was sucked up in the hallucinations of fever.

  His eyes shifted to the rag Leawyn still held in her hand. Slowly, he looked back into her wide blue eyes.

  The tent was dark, the only light coming from the burning fire in the room.

  “Why are you doing this?” His voice was raspy and weak, so much different than his usual deep, commanding baritone.

  Xavier didn’t expect an answer, and instead was ready to accept the blackness that was slowly surrounding his vision, but then he heard her soft voice answering his loaded question in a whisper.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  Leawyn met his eyes bravely as he slowly released his grasp on her wrist. He watched her as she continued her task and carefully dabbed at his arrow wound with the medicine.

  The only sounds were the cracking of the fire and the soft splash of a rag dipping in and out of water.

  Over the next couple days, Xavier’s health slowly returned under the care of Leawyn.

  After that first night, he woke up only a handful of times. When he did, it wasn’t for very long, and he didn’t speak. Often times, Xavier would wake up when Leawyn was changing the bandages on his shoulder. He would also wake without her knowing, and would simply watch her as she went about her business.

  But he almost always woke when she was singing.

  Even though his health was improving enough to know he would survive, Leawyn
never left his side. The only time she did was to relieve herself, or when Tristan and Tyronian would force her to.

  The next time Xavier woke, it was his brother watching him instead of Leawyn.

  “Tristan.”

  Tristan made his way quickly over to the bed, kneeling by his brother.

  “Brother!” Tristan sighed in obvious relief, looking him over. “How are you faring?”

  Xavier shifted, holding back his wince when he moved his still tender shoulder. “I’ve been better, but I’ll live to see another day,” he said, making his brother chuckle.

  “No doubt thanks to Leawyn,” Tristan told him, studying Xavier’s face. “She never left your side.”

  Xavier swallowed, turning his eyes away from Tristan’s and up at the tent ceiling. He was lost in thought for a few moments.

  “She’s different. She…confuses me,” Xavier reluctantly told his brother, not meeting his eyes.

  “She is a different creature, that is for certain,” Tristan agreed with a chuckle.

  Xavier didn’t respond, and it grew quiet between the two of them for a while before Tristan spoke again. “She has taken Killix under her care while you were sick.”

  Xavier looked at Tristan sharply, and Tristan grinned at his expression. “Killix is quite taken with her, maybe even more so than he is with her mare.”

  Xavier grimaced, turning his head away. His stallion mating with Leawyn’s mare was the last thing he needed.

  “Don’t worry; Deydrey isn’t as welcoming to his attentions as Leawyn is.”

  Xavier allowed a small smirk to appear on his face. He had no doubt Killix wouldn’t accept rejection for very long. He was his horse, after all.

  Xavier sobered, looking to his brother. “What of my men?”

  Tristan did not need to say anything; Xavier knew by his facial expression he was the only one who had survived. Xavier looked away, clenching his teeth together tightly in rage.

  Many of them were good men, loyal to Xavier. They had trusted in his leadership, and he repaid them by leading them to their deaths.